


Color Blind

by notenuffcaffeine



Series: Borderlines [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3A happened but 3B didn't, Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Bounty Hunters, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hale Family Feels, I Blame Tumblr, Kidnapped Derek, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, POV Scott McCall, Pack Politics, Prompt Fic, Scott is a Good Alpha, The Alpha Pack, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Mates, Whump, alphas are a-holes, and alpha-pack level violence, and snarky baddies, here thar be swear words, hey look it's sterek now!, i don't even know what to put in here, involuntary roadtrip, scott is a baby alpha, stockholm syndrome as applied to pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenuffcaffeine/pseuds/notenuffcaffeine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why are people saying Stiles ran away to get married?" asked Lydia in lieu of saying hello like a normal person.  Scott kept his annoyance to himself and set his lunch tray down, noisy, and tried not to throw his pack to the floor.  Isaac was much quieter about it.</p>
<p>"Because it's funnier than Derek got shot and now they're on the run with hunters," he said. He shrugged and tore into some bread like it had personally offended him.  "The Amber Alert is all we can do from here, so what's it matter what the rumor is?"</p>
<p>Lydia rolled her eyes and considered it for a moment. Then she pursed her lips and shook her head, full-on disapproval. "But did you have to start it around that he eloped with Derek?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said Isaac.  "That's the punch line.  That's what makes it funny. It's Derek."</p>
<p>Lydia gave him a disapproving glare over her coffee cup. "When they get back, they're going to kill you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>... Or ...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Scott loses two members of the pack he didn't even realize he had, he has to figure out how to cope and how to get them back when the only clues he's got come from gut feelings and sketchy phone calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS is the end of the story started in "Red & Black" and "Blue." It covers some of the same events from the previous two to show how they looked down in Beacon Hills. Absolute last of the set, I swear. ;c)
> 
>  
> 
> \----

At best guess, it was nearly ten hours before anyone noticed Stiles was gone. Who knew what time he had actually disappeared but it wasn't until his dad went in to wake him up for school that he saw an empty room, noticed the jeep wasn't in the driveway. Scott was at school already by then and just about to walk into class when he got the phone call. Seconds later and he would have gotten a voice-mail. Instead, Scott ditched class that day. Stiles wouldn't answer his phone, it just kept ringing. The sheriff got help from the department. Scott hopped on his bike and went to check the usual places. Their old ditch-spot in the park was empty, the jeep nowhere to be found.

After making another fruitless call to Stiles' cellphone, Scott tried Derek's. And got another voice-mail. That hit him as off; why wouldn't Derek be answering his phone? He had been getting better, working through the stuff left over from the alphas and Jennifer Blake. Scott still didn't know what to do with Derek, but Stiles wouldn't leave him alone, he said for his own good, and Scott kind of understood that. Derek wasn't so bad now, and he was stuck by himself trying to keep track of Peter. Scott didn't envy him that chore. He still hated Peter. But he knew somebody had to be responsible for him, and that Derek had to take that on made Scott feel bad sometimes.

But the thing was that Derek always answered the phone when he or Stiles called. And now he wasn't. Stiles wasn't. Following that lead, Scott headed into the city, driving by Derek's apartment. There was the jeep. But Derek's Toyota was gone. Just in case, Scott tried to get into the loft but nobody answered. He was on the phone to the sheriff as he walked back down to his bike. When he asked if Scott knew where Derek would hang out, Scott could only guess.

"Stiles would know, but I guess we can't ask him," he reasoned, annoyed. "I'll go back to school and see if Isaac knows anywhere."

"If anyone gives you crap, just tell them to talk to me," the sheriff told him. And Scott had a mission, with official permission, so he walked right into class, even though he was twenty minutes late, and said Isaac was needed in the office. He outright lied to Mr. Bastion and somehow pulled it off. Stiles would have been proud, but his mother would have been so pissed. He could see her face in his mind and he hated earning that particular face. But the sheriff outranked the school staff. His missing best friend outranked school.

With Isaac as a guide, Scott scouted around town for places they might find Derek's car, or Derek, or Stiles. The last place they looked was the old Hale house, and there they walked in on a crime scene. Sheriffs vehicles lined the driveway and there were people taking pictures, yellow tape crisscrossed from tree to tree. Derek's car sat in front, doors open as an officer took more pictures inside. Scott and Isaac went to the sheriff first.

"We found Derek's car," the sheriff reported, a frustrated sigh escaping as the man tried to keep it together. "Stiles' phone and backpack are in there. Derek's phone and wallet are in there. And there's blood in the house."

"Blood?" echoed Scott. The sheriff nodded, expression grim. He scrubbed a shaky hand across his face. "It looks like there's been gunshots recent but this house is so trashed, we would need Sacramento to send in a forensics team to sort this out. We're still looking."

"Yeah, maybe not," said Isaac. The sheriff looked at him funny for the apparent non-sequitur and Scott twitched, scratching at his nose in a hint.

"Maybe, uh, we could try to pick something up?" He said. The sheriff was new to the game, only in the loop for a month, but he caught on.

"You can do that?" he asked, doubting but hopeful all the same. Scott shrugged.

"We can try," he said. Isaac nodded.

"Derek tried to teach me once," he said. "When we were looking for Erica and Boyd."

The sheriff stared at them, eyes narrowed as he thought it over. Then he nodded and caught Scott by the shoulder to lead him on the way. "Just... You know. Don't do anything weird."

It took a few minutes but Isaac found a bloody bullet embedded in a smashed part of the stairs. He guessed it was Derek's blood, since he thought he recognized the scent, but he wasn't comfortable making the assumption. It could have been wishful thinking because the floor was still smeared with blood and Derek could survive that while Stiles would have a harder time with it. All they could do was tell the sheriff what they found.

They found a trail of ash, some of it burned and smeared. The sheriff asked what it was and Scott frowned, hesitant to share after so long leaving the man in the dark. Finally he shrugged.

"Allison mentioned there was a weird check-in with a couple of hunters about a week ago. They told her dad that they were in town but didn't say why. So Derek wanted to try this thing Peter said could help."

"Peter is always wrong," said Isaac, shaking his head.

"So they were here messing with flammable stuff?" the sheriff asked. "You think Stiles would help him with this kind of thing, whatever it was?"

"Yeah, he would," said Scott.

"He's been helping us for a few months," said Isaac. "He just... Meddles. Derek lets him."

The sheriff wasn't happy about it. He accepted it though, didn't say anything about the meddling getting his kid disappeared from a crime scene.

"It's gotta be hunters," said Isaac. "I mean, look where we are."

"Except, Stiles," said Scott. "They wouldn't take Stiles if they're hunters."

"Hunters are the only people I've ever met who shoot other people," said Isaac. Scott sighed and nodded.

"I'll talk to Allison. Maybe her dad will know something."

"Do it in the next couple hours or I drag Chris in for a chat," said the sheriff. He was angry now, frustrated and worried. Scott figured he got it. Stiles was missing again, and had been for a long time based on the mess that was left of it. A few hours, but who knew.

"Allison said her dad and her are out of it," said Scott. "So he won't know anything."

"He'll know who those hunters were," said Stilinski. "And that's the best lead we've had in hours."

 

***

 

There was no good news from their visit with Allison. She ditched her last class when Scott told her what was going on and they met at her place to confront her dad. Chris was pissed off that Stiles was missing, and more pissed because it was apparently Derek's fault, but he didn't have anything. The hunters who had called him were out of the game too long to be involved. They had only reported in as a courtesy; they were old-guard like the Argents had been before his father went off the deep end. Chris didn't know if they were even still in town.

"So call them," said Scott. "We need something."

"There's nothing from that corner, is what I'm telling you, Scott."

"I don't care, do it anyway," he insisted. "Because if we don't have something, Stiles' dad is going to ask you questions. He sent us here."

Chris cast a narrow eyed glare at him for the subtle threat. "Because you said something in the first place."

"Dad! Stiles is gone... As in missing." The reminder was apparently useful. Allison got through the stubborn pride with an arched eyebrow. She pointed at her dad's pocket and Chris reluctantly pulled out a phone.

"Fine," he said. He flipped through the recent calls and initiated a new one. He punched the speaker button with a glare aimed at Scott.

"Hey, Chris, man... What's up?" came the voice on the line. Scott didn't recognize it but he seemed comfortable with Chris. It didn't sound like anybody who would kidnap people.

"Yeah, Kenny. Are you guys still in town? We've had some trouble," said Chris.

"No, we left yesterday. We're not exactly in the game anymore but we're not too far. Do you need us to go back?"

"No. We seem to have a rogue wolf. It looks like he took a local teen," Chris said.

"Damn."

"Yeah. The sheriff's son."

"That took balls."

"Not really. The kid's an idiot who plays with wolves."

Scott and Chris traded glares for that commentary but a sudden shout in the background caught their attention. Scott and Isaac stared at the phone.

"What the hell is that racket?" Chris asked, serious.

"Dunno. I'm at a truck stop. There's nothing but cars out here," said Kenny. He didn't sound concerned by the noise on his end.

"Where at?" Chris asked at Scott's silent insistence.

"Down out of Yuma," came the reply. The yelling in the background stopped. Isaac grabbed Scott's shoulder and shook him, like he wanted to say something but was afraid to be heard. Scott figured he knew.

"Stiles," he said, his voice hardly audible. He pointed at the phone to make it clearer. Chris nodded at him, more intent on the phone.

"Things sound weird in Yuma. I wonder if our rogue wolf followed you. Should I get my gear?" he asked.

"We're not staying long. I gotta get back to the lady, and Chuck's no good at driving these long hauls anymore. We'll have help when we get where we're going," the man said. "But Chuck just got back so we'll go check that racket out. If we did just find your rogue I'll let you know."

"Yeah, you do that," said Chris. And then he was hanging up. Scott felt like he needed his old inhaler suddenly. Then he remembered Stiles was the only one of them who still carried it just-in-case and it got worse.

"That was Stiles! They hurt Stiles! Get them back-"

"If they've got the sheriff's kid, there's no way they're in Yuma. They wouldn't report their location like that," said Chris. "So we've got to handle them carefully. I need to talk to the sheriff-"

"Who are these guys?" Scott said. "Why'd they go after Derek and Stiles? What's gonna happen?"

"I just know they retired something like ten years ago," said Chris. "That's why Kenny checked in this time, congratulate us on our getting out of the fight."

"And they asked about Gerard," Allison added in. "That's why it was weird. That's why we flagged them, but we didn't think it would be a problem."

"Well it is," said Scott, snappish. "They took Stiles."

"Yeah, we get it," said Chris. "And I'll deal with it, with the sheriff. So I want you kids out of my house so I can go talk to him."

"I'm going with you."

"Not a chance. I don't want a parade following me into the Sheriff's department. Just go home. Somebody will let you know when we have something more."

Scott wanted to argue but he stopped when Allison caught his elbow, tugged him toward the door. "If we're out faster, he's out faster," she told him. It made sense so Scott and Isaac both headed for the door.

 

****


	2. Chapter 2

There was nothing to be done with the information they had. Scott and Isaac snuck back to the Hale house and tried to catch a scent of something useful but it was getting on dark and the scene had been trampled all day by the sheriffs team and vehicles. Even Derek's Toyota was gone, all of his and Stiles' things with it. The only lead they had was a retired hunter and a muffled shout over a cell phone call. Scott left Isaac at his house to make sure his mom didn't freak out and then he went to find out what the sheriff had discovered.

The answer was a lot more of nothing. The phone number Chris had called was a burner number, no name or address, no way to track it down. The sheriff had spent hours digging on it and they had nothing. It was late and it had been a long day for the sheriff. He was worn out by anger and frustration. Scott had never seen the sheriff so mad he would throw things at the wall when they didn't cooperate. Stiles said he'd thrown a bottle one time when he was drunk after his mom died, but Stilinski wasn't drunk. He was just mad. So the phone book ended up in two pieces across the room.

"Feel better?" Scott asked, from safely nowhere near the trajectory of the phone books. The sheriff gave an unamused huff , sarcastic laughter Scott was more used to coming from Stiles, and sat down at his desk again.

"Sorry," he said. His hands worked in and out of fists as he leaned on the desktop. "It's just this. This whole thing, Scott. What am I supposed to do with it? I have one solid lead, thanks to you, and I can't report it or I'll be laughed out of the room and nobody will do a thing on it. But as it is, nobody can do anything anyway."

"Allison said they're going to keep looking," Scott offered up. "There's entire families of hunters out there-"

"Which is, frankly, a terrifying thought," said the sheriff. "Especially now."

"Yeah, but the point is maybe with all those people to sort through, Chris will find someone who knows something," said Scott. He shrugged and waved his arms a little for emphasis. He didn't know how to help Stiles' dad. They were both having the same problem: Stiles was supposed to be with them to do it for them.

The sheriff's cell phone rang then and he stared at it like he had forgotten how they worked. Then he blinked at it and swore.

"What?" Scott asked. The sheriff pointed to the caller ID that flashed up on the screen.

"It's them-" he began but then he engaged the call before the caller hung up or went to voicemail. Scott got the hint and rushed the desk, standing over the sheriff's shoulder to listen-in uninvited.

"Stilinski."

"Dad?" The sheriff was calmer about it than Scott, but he still startled when he heard who had called. It took everything Scott had not to jump for the phone. He heard Stiles' voice this time, not what might or might not have been him screaming in pain, but actually-talking Stiles. Relief settled in and Scott leaned in to be sure not to miss anything. The sheriff allowed him in his space and tried to accommodate without giving up the phone himself.

"Stiles! What's going on? We found-"

"Yeah, I know," Stiles interrupted. He sounded wiped out, exhausted, and Scott wanted to interrupt, to ask if he was okay from whatever had happened that afternoon. Stiles didn't give him a chance, just kept rambling in his very-un-Stiles tone. "Look, I'm at this diner... I-I stole somebody's phone to call you. I can't keep it."

"Yes you can!" Stilinski yelped, his voice echoing a little off the file cabinets. Scott stared at the phone, jaw slack. They knew whose phone he was calling from. He hadn't stolen it from anyone. Why was Stiles lying for the hunters?

"Dad! I'm okay! I'm with Derek so I'm okay! I just don't know when I'll be home. I'll be home when I can but I don't know-"

"Stiles-". The sheriff tried to interrupt but his son wasn't going to let him. Scott knew the tone when he heard it and Stiles had made up his mind on something. There was no way either one of them could have swayed him off so Scott stayed quiet to listen. He put a hand on the sheriff's shoulder to encourage him to do the same.

"So I love you and stop worrying," Stiles told his dad. "Just tell everyone we're okay. And we'll see them when we can. I gotta get the phone back where I found it."

"Don't you dare-"

"Dad!"

There was a long quiet. The sheriff hung his head, pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn't occupied by crushing the cell phone. His heart was beating fast and Scott was suddenly worried about both of the Stilinskis. Then Stiles' dad seemed to find his zen and took a deep breath. He was faking it, but he was calm.

"Son... Okay. I love you. Be careful. Whatever it is..."

"I gotta go," was their only warning before the connection was closed. Scott stood there for a long minute, longer than the phone call itself, just going over it in his head. He wanted something to tell him where Stiles was, but his friend was being shifty. Stiles was good at that. But it only hurt their chances of getting him back. He wasn't helping by being himself this time. It didn't work to outsmart the only backup he could get via cellphone.

The office was silent after that. Sheriff Stilinski sat at his desk, head in his hands as he stared down at the phone. Scott returned to his chair, slouching down and staring at his shoes. He really wished his mom were there suddenly.

"So now what?" Scott finally asked. He pointed to the phone. "What does that even mean? I know he lied."

"It means we can rule out ransom," said the sheriff. "It means he's trying to shut us down so we don't look for him. It means if it were anybody's kid but mine I'd have to call this a runaway." The guy looked like he wanted to throw the phone but he only glared at it.

"That's crap," said Scott. "You heard him. He was lying."

Stilinski looked up at him then, expression drawn and tired. "But I have no evidence to support it. I have somebody else's blood on the floor and a vehicle abandoned on county property that shows signs of vandalism. And my kid just told me he's fine, stop looking for him."

"He's afraid," said Scott. "He doesn't want us finding whatever trouble he did."

"Probably. But that's not likely anyway with the hunters involved," said the sheriff. "If you and Isaac stay out of it, hunters won't pay attention to me. I'm not on their radar."

"Yeah, you are. You're still the sheriff," said Scott. Stilinski shook his head, waved to the phone as he sat up.

"I can't use county resources to look for him. No more than any other runaway," said the sheriff. "Unless you're going to tell me some reason Derek has for hurting Stiles, what I've got is my kid saying he's with Derek and they're not coming home. That's all I've got to work with here. I don't want to call it a kidnapping and hang one more thing over that kid's head."

Scott chewed his lip as he mulled it over. It made sense. But it was so unfair. They had nothing to go on and now the sheriff couldn't even do more than the Amber Alert that was already going.

"So, what? He's a runaway and we just let him disappear?"

"On paper, anyway."

 

***

 

The answer haunted Scott back to his house. He came in late and still found his mom waiting.

"Isaac told me Stiles has been hurt?" was her unusual greeting. "Do they know anything? How's his dad?"

Scott frowned and backed away from the buzzing. He took a breath and shook his head.

"Stiles called. He said he's with Derek," Scott said.

"Derek? Derek Hale?" echoed Melissa. That brought Isaac downstairs.

"So he's okay?" Isaac asked. "Both of them?"

"I don't kn- okay, we think they eloped to Canada, how's that? We weren't invited," Scott said, snappish. "We just got a phone call, that's it."

"Eloped?" both Isaac and Melissa said.

"No, I mean they might as well have. Stiles told us he's fine and not to worry about him."

"I am gonna kill that kid," Melissa said.

"Yeah. Get in line," said Scott.

Scott should have known better than to toss out anybody getting married around Isaac. He was just angry, and frustrated, and he couldn't do anything to help. So when he got to school the next day, a miserable Friday, and heard somebody say Stiles Stilinski had run away to get married, Scott was torn between killing Isaac and laughing. It served Stiles right if the whole school thought he had eloped. With one phone call, he had shut down the sheriff's ability to really look for him and, knowing Stiles, he was smart enough to have done it on purpose.

What were they _supposed_ to tell people? Did he think of that before he shut down an investigation? And the idea of it made Scott laugh. It was just too impossible to be true. He knew his friend was missing and he knew he had been hurt and those were things he just couldn't dwell on or he'd go crazy. Stiles didn't sound hurt on the phone, he just sounded sad, tired maybe. Somehow the rumor mill made Scott feel a little better about things he couldn't control. He at least always knew that was wrong.

At lunch Scott tracked down Allison. He already knew her dad hadn't found anything but he just needed to be sure the rest of his friends were okay. He found her with Lydia and invited himself and Isaac to their table.

"Why are people saying Stiles ran away to get married?" asked Lydia in lieu of saying hello like a normal person. Scott kept his annoyance to himself and set his lunch tray down, noisy, and tried not to throw his pack to the floor. Isaac was much quieter about it.

"Because it's funnier than _Derek got shot and now they're on the run with hunters_ ," he said. He shrugged and tore into some bread like it had personally offended him. "The Amber Alert is all we can do from here, so what's it matter what the rumor is?"

Lydia rolled her eyes and considered it for a moment. Then she pursed her lips and shook her head, full-on disapproval. "But did you have to start it around that he eloped with _Derek_?"

"Yes," said Isaac. "That's the punch line. That's what makes it funny. It's _Derek_."

Lydia gave him a disapproving glare over her coffee cup. "When they get back, they're going to kill you."

"As soon as they get back I'll do a full confession," said Scott. He would take all the blame and he would never mention how mad he was about it all and he would figure out how to put a leash on his best friend and have it not be the weirdest thing ever and nobody would give two shits about the stupid elopement rumor mill because of the whole leash thing... Scott was legit going to lose his mind if this kept up. He forced his brain to cooperate and looked to Lydia expectantly. "And we're totally open to any ideas on how to make them come back."

"I think you should try tracking them," said Allison.

"Tried. There's no scent or anything left at the house," said Scott.

"So go with your gut," said Isaac. Scott looked over at him, eyebrow raised, before he shook it off.

"My gut says this mystery meat is a lie so I'm not sure how that helps Stiles," replied Scott. He stabbed a plastic fork at the food on his plate.

"Or Derek," added Lydia idly.

"But you're the alpha. You should know how to find us," said Isaac. "That's what drove Derek so crazy about Boyd and Erica. He knew they were close but the alphas were masking everything."

Lydia arched an eyebrow. "If there's anyone who would be in a McCall pack, it would be Stiles," she said.

Scott stared from face to face, surprised. He knew so little about the wolf side of things. He didn’t have the first idea how to tap into some kind of pack-radar.

"So?" Allison asked, encouraging. "Just- where do you think he is? First thing that comes to mind."

"North," said Scott, automatic. "And Kenny said they went south."

"He also said he didn't know about the missing kid," said Isaac. Scott nodded.

“Exactly,” he said. He pointed to Allison. “Her dad said they wouldn’t give away their location. So they would rather we go looking in Mexico than anywhere north.”

“So, north. It’s a bit... vague,” said Lydia. “That just leaves Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and-”

“Canada,” said Scott. He nodded miserably. “And they’ve had at least twenty-four hours to get to anywhere in any of those places.”

Still, it was better than nothing. His gut said north when he bothered to ask. Maybe he should be looking north. He scratched at the side of his head and contemplated the plate full of gross food in front of him. Ditching the rest of the day and going on a road trip seemed like a healthier, more productive way to waste time.

“Hey, do you think the sheriff’d let me borrow Stiles’ car to go looking for him?” he asked.

 

***

 

That was yet another negative to the day.

“No you cannot go roadtripping to look for Stiles!” Scott’s mother said, in a fully emphatic, _definitely never gonna let that idea happen_ , complete with the hands that balled up into fists like she wanted to throttle him for asking.

“But if I can find him-”

“Yeah, if you can find him, then what?” asked the sheriff. He had stopped by on his way home to report the next-to-nothing he had accomplished for the day and Scott thought it was the perfect chance. The two parents just didn’t want to listen.

“Then I find him, and Derek, and I bring them home,” said Scott. “That’s why I’d sorta need to borrow the jeep...”

“No, you find him then you’ve found yourself a couple of hunters, and then we have _three_ kids gone instead of just the two we started out with,” the sheriff said. Even his tone was angry. “Forget this idea, Scott. I don’t care what you can feel out there with the wolf-stuff. It’s too dangerous.”

“Exactly,” his mom said. Their expressions matched, down to the tone, and Scott went a little red at the lecture.

“And it goes without saying, _no_. You can’t use Stiles’ jeep on this suicide mission,” the sheriff added. He pointed a finger at Scott. “Because it’s not going to happen. You’re gonna stay right here, with your mom, and for godsakes stay out of trouble so we can worry about getting Stiles back.”

“But if I just get in a car and drive, maybe it’ll get me there.”

“Or maybe it’ll get you in a ditch,” said his mom. She caught him by the shoulders and stood up as tall as she possibly could in her maternal efforts at being bigger than her werewolf son. Scott didn’t smile but he kind of wanted to.

“When _people who hunt people_ is both the best and worst possible outcome for you taking a trip by yourself, it is a definite _No_ , Scott,” she said.

Besides that, Scott reasoned, the jeep was locked up in the sheriffs department impound lot as part of a _potential_ crime scene, so he couldn’t take it anyway.

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Derek Hale Appreciation Day is a Thing now and I would be perfectly happy if this were a weekly Thing. All I have in the offing is fic, but, hail to the Hale!
> 
> \-----

The jeep stayed locked up. So did Derek's Toyota. For an entire week. There was no news, no other phone calls, just an empty desk in almost every one of Scott's classes, an empty spot at the lunch table, and a nightly report from the sheriff. Had Scott heard anything? Maybe this was acting out - had Stiles ever said anything like maybe he was mad at his dad? It was kind of the worst week Scott could remember in his life because he was worried about Stiles, and his dad was worried about Stiles, and Scott knew that somewhere out there, Stiles was worried about his dad, so Scott worried about his dad. They only had each other, just the two of them, and Stiles was so protective of his old man.

Now the sheriff didn't know what to do with himself when he got off work. His house was empty, Stiles' room was a mess and yet it was cleaner than it should be because he wasn't in it to mess it up worse. Stilinski was the sheriff but he looked very much like a lost puppy when he showed up every night at the McCall's house. It was usually late, around eight so he wouldn't be "begging food" from them. Scott's mom always fed him anyway.

School was out for Thanksgiving break the next week. Scott stayed close to home because his mom was on edge over Stiles being gone. They wouldn't let him go looking. Before they knew it, it was a week in to Stiles' disappearance and the sheriff had stopped by every night. One time he stopped by twice because he left and then couldn't make himself park at an empty house. Another time, Scott heard his mom's cell go off and then a minute later she was in his room, begging him to not leave the house, and she was gone to go keep Stiles' dad company at their house. She came home around four in the morning. Stiles' dad was having a really hard week.

Then, Thursday morning, Scott and Isaac woke up to a racket in the kitchen. His mom had four days off work for the holiday because she had planned her vacation time for once. So she started in on the cooking at eight am and didn't stop until nearly four. Dinner was held though because the sheriff hadn't shown up. Around a half an hour later, the front door eased open as the sheriff let himself inside. That was new. Scott started to stand up from the couch but he stopped when he heard voices. Plural. _Stiles_. The sheriff saw him and held up a finger for quiet but he kept talking to Stiles. He put the phone on speaker.

"We're... I think we're gonna take a job," said Stiles. He sounded like he was rambling. "There's... Hey, I'm learning how to fight finally, Dad. All those years you wished I'd get off my computer and take a karate class or boxing or something, and I'm finally doing it."

The sheriff stared down at the phone in his hand, surprised and shaking his head. "That's... Wow."

"Must be an incentive thing," Stiles said. He didn't sound very happy about the incentive to learn to fight and Scott's hands balled into fists.

"Scott's going to be pissed, you realize," said the sheriff, noting the motion. Scott sheepishly blushed and tried to relax.

"About so many things," agreed Stiles. "Dad! I need you to tell Scotty something though. Freakin' start this one around _town_ -"

"Don't you even-" came Derek's voice from what sounded like right next to the phone. They were all on speaker. Scott breathed a little easier hearing Derek though.

"I've been making out with _Derek Hale_ for like a week now," said Stiles. That was the last thing Scott could ever have expected.

"You’re sure as hell not tonight," muttered Derek. Scott's anger notched up when he heard people in the background, laughing suddenly at the conversation. They were definitely on speaker and Stiles was talking with an audience. Where the hell were they?

"Probably not but if I'm not home to start that one around myself, they're just going to have to do it for me," Stiles told Derek. There was a long silence as Scott and the sheriff both stared at the phone, dumbfounded. The sheriff had gone slightly pale and his vice-grip on the phone got shaky.

"I ask again, Stiles. What the hell is going on?" Stiles' dad's said, this time he was using the Sheriff-tone. There was no way he hadn't heard the other people responding to what Stiles had said and it probably did nothing to make him feel better, not knowing where Stiles was or what he was involved in. Just like Scott, all the sheriff knew was Stiles was a week missing, with Derek ( _who he made out with, what the actual hell, Stiles.._.) and their phone call had an actual audience.

"You're walking to have thanksgiving with the pack," Stiles said over the phone, sobered and no longer laughing. "And you're gonna tell 'em we're okay and we're gonna take a job in another pack’s territory. So Scotty’s down by two. We’re bailing on him.”

The room around Stiles went silent. The sheriff looked at Scott suddenly. Scott stared back. He was too surprised to know what to do with that. Stiles was supposed to come back. Noise behind him startled him and Scott looked to see his mom had come in from the kitchen. She sank down on to the couch beside him, looking up between them, worried. Looking back over his shoulder, Scott saw Isaac leaning against the wall, arms crossed and expression dark. None of them knew what to do either, but it seemed obvious they had all heard the same thing. Stiles didn't plan to make it home.

“Dad?” His friend's voice drew Scott's attention back to the phone. The sheriff looked like he was going to break his jaw trying not to lose it. He was angry. And he was scared.

“Stiles. When are you coming home?” he managed to ask. There was another long quiet.

“Sheriff? We don’t know. There’s no timeline. We’re just not going home,” Derek said. The change in voices startled Scott's mom. She caught his hand and squeezed his fingers briefly.

“He’s safe. He just wants you to stop looking for us and go back to work," said Derek. Scott thought for a second that the sheriff was going to throw the phone.

“Derek, so help me, put my kid back on the phone.”

“I’m right here, Dad,” Stiles said. “But we gotta go. Love you.”

Stiles sounded stressed. And depressed. And hurt. The line went dead. The sheriff stared at it for a minute, looking like he was seething, and then he finally tried calling the number back. They hadn't done that before because Stiles had made it clear it wasn't safe to. But he tried it. The line just rang and rang until it disconnected.

The sheriff didn't go home that night. He slept on the couch. Well, if you could call it sleeping. Scott heard him pacing half the night after he'd convinced Melissa to finally go to bed.

 

***

 

"What are you doing here?"

Scott looked up suddenly, hitting his head on the seat headrest as he jerked to look out the driver's window. Chris Argent stood just at his shoulder, arm leaned on the car as he looked in at where he and Isaac were working on homework. Scott offered up a halfhearted smile and held up a textbook.

"History," he said. Isaac waved the paperback in his hand.

"Shakespeare," said Isaac, fully unenthusiastic.

Chris wasn't impressed. "And why on this lovely cloudy day are you doing your schoolwork parked outside my apartment building?"

"Uhmm..." Scott thought about lying but he couldn't come up with any possible lie to cover it. "We're... I guess we're babysitting?"

"Babysitting?"

"Well, that sounds better than watching over Allison, doesn't it?" Isaac asked. Scott nodded.

"Nothing stalker-ish, Mr. Argent. I just wanna know she's okay," he said. Chris set his hands on the door and looked at Scott more directly.

"She's fine. She's at my house."

"Yeah, and I thought Stiles was fine at his house and Derek was fine at his house too," said Scott. "So things don't always work out fine when they should."

Chris stared at Scott for a moment. Then he shook his head. "If they had been home, they would still be home. But Stiles was with Derek. And that's how he got in trouble," said Chris. "So if you want to make sure my daughter is safe then the obvious answer is to stay away from her. And I know you and I have had this conversation before."

Scott tramped down on anger and just nodded. Chris stood up to leave. "Go home, Scott." He backed up onto the sidewalk and crossed his arms to wait. Silently steaming, Scott stared out the front window and tried to sort out how to handle the situation. They weren't doing anything wrong. But no surprise that Chris Argent was a jerk.

"Hey..." Isaac said, quiet. "We need to go. I don't want to see what he looks like mad."

Frustrated, Scott gave in and turned on the car. He was careful pulling out in traffic, knowing Chris was probably waiting for him to peel out. They had to go pick up his mom from work soon, anyway.

 

***

 

The next call came at dinner again, a week after Thanksgiving. After five PM, on speakerphone, with an audience of more than just Stiles and Derek. Scott's mom was gone, at work. The sheriff had stopped by as per recent custom and had even brought Chinese. They had barely gotten the bags down on the table when the cell phone rang. The sheriff sorted food out quietly, the phone on speaker on the shelf in front of him as he worked. He was trying to stay calm because Stiles was. All Scott could pick up from him was confusion and a happiness to have his dad on the phone, so he didn't interfere. And they didn't know yet if that would cause problems for Stiles and Derek, if they talked to anyone who wasn't the sheriff. It was supposed to be a family thing. The sheriff shared because that was Scott's brother as far as they cared, but they didn't know if whoever monitored their calls knew that. Then it fell quiet, like Stiles had stuff he wanted to say but couldn't, and it dragged on because nobody made them hang up.

"I've got your car at the station still, Derek. Mystery solved and everything as it is, I should probably get it released to someone before it gets auctioned off," the sheriff said, trying to recover the silence.

"I don't know where to store it or how to..."

"I can release it to anyone. If you want it sold off or something, that's a little more difficult," said the sheriff. "I can store it here at the house I guess."

"Can you sign it over to Melissa McCall?" Derek asked. "Without me there, I mean?"

That surprised Scott. He looked over at the sheriff expectantly. The man shrugged, not committing to anything like that without Melissa there to argue Derek about it. Because she would. But all Scott saw was a set of wheels to steal and use to chase after Stiles before he lost that gut feeling entirely.

"I'll see what I can do. I suppose she'd forgive you for kidnapping Stiles if you gave her a car for the deal," observed the sheriff.

"That's the story down there?" asked Derek. It sounded like he was frowning at it and Scott grinned, smug for getting away with something again.

"Please say yes," said Stiles. That only made Scott smile more; he _knew_ Stiles would approve.

"Nope, just her version of events," said the sheriff, his tone reluctant. He shook his head at Scott's amusement. "Apparently that's what Scott told her so she'd stop worrying. I've straightened that out but she'd still rather you two eloped to Canada than whatever the hell actually happened."

The awkward silence that followed spoke volumes. Scott's eyes bugged and he pointed adamantly at the phone. Canada! They reacted to Canada. He heard the way Derek and Stiles both held their breath and the slight strangled sound Stiles made when he needed to talk really badly and couldn't. He made a sound and Scott recognized it and that was all the proof he needed. The sheriff looked at him, considering it but not jumping for joy, either.

"If you can, get her the car," said Derek then. He was trying to distract from Stiles. Derek was covering for him. Between that and the car, Derek Hale had just become Scott's favorite person on the planet. And then he said, "But Scott doesn't get to drive it, or no deal."

"Why's that?" Stilinski asked.

"Scott's a pain in the ass and I'm sorry his mom has to put up with him," said Derek, tone perfectly dry. Stiles gave a quiet, muffled laugh like he had his hands over his face. He didn't have any defense at all for his best friend. Scott deflated a little, wounded.

"And he’s afraid Scott and Allison'll just make babies in that thing," said Stiles. "He doesn't want them all over the interior."

That was an extra backhanded blow and Scott scowled, paced away. The sheriff gave an annoyed huff and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh my god, Stiles. Could you not - okay, I'll make sure to mention it to Melissa and we'll go from there," Stilinski said. He seemed to be stalling to stay on the phone but with so much he wasn’t allowed to say, Stiles wasn’t jumping on the pause. Derek did.

“Tell Scott to put someone on Peter. He’s going to cause trouble if he’s left alone too long,” he said. “I’m not sure if he’ll go looking for Cora or if he’ll start taking this out on Scott. But the main thing is... just don’t trust him. Do not leave him alone.”

The earlier insults faded when Scott realized they hadn't been meant seriously if Derek was worried about him.

“How do you mean, take it out on Scott?” the sheriff asked, looking back at him.

“I’m not sure what he’ll do without a pack around, is what I’m saying,” said Derek. “For all I know he hasn’t even noticed I’m gone. But he’s not exactly stable or predictable. I don’t want anything from this hitting Scott and the others.”

“Yeah,” agreed Stiles quietly, just loud enough for his dad to hear him. “That’s _another_ mental case I don’t want to deal with.”

"Sheriff? We gotta go. We'll call tomorrow sometime," said Derek suddenly. Then the line was gone. The sheriff closed the phone.

"They're in Canada," said Scott quickly. "It's north. And they were afraid when you said it."

The sheriff nodded. He frowned. "Apparently with a mental case who doesn't like being talked about, too."

"Exactly," said Scott. He was relieved the sheriff believed him this time, saw what he saw. "So _now_ can I take the car and go look for them?"

The sheriff sighed, watching him, his expression drawn and sad. "Sure," he said. "As soon as you get a US passport to get you over the border and back. That'll only take you about ninety days to six months, give or take."

As that sunk in, Scott dropped down into his chair and stared at his food. What the hell were they supposed to do now? They knew it was Canada. But the sheriff had no way of getting help there, and even if they went together, Scott couldn't cross the borderline without causing an international incident.

Sulking, he sat in his kitchen and ate his dinner. Like everything was normal and fine. Two weeks without his best friend, and the days were just adding up. There was nothing he could do.

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

With the sheriff over so much, waiting on calls from Stiles, Scott talked to him more than usual. He had always been polite and still sarcastic like Stiles. The sheriff liked dad-jokes when Stiles was around to embarrass with them, but lately they hadn't been brought out. If something was funny, he pointed it out, but the whole missing-son thing really dealt a blow to the sheriff's funny bone.

It wasn't even weird that Scott noticed that sort of stuff now. Stiles was his brother and the sheriff was keeping him in the loop as much as he was asking for help. He didn't have many people he could go to for help with hunter stuff, and Scott tried to help him out. It was so frustrating waiting for phone calls and Scott understood why everyone got mad at him for never picking up the phone. It was just as frustrating when it didn't ring. They knew it wasn't going to ring since they had already talked to Stiles that night, but they still wanted it to. Scott sat with Stiles' dad after the call was long done, the both of them staring at the phone more than eating their now past-cold dinner.

"What if I asked my dad for help?" Scott asked, apparently random because the thought showed up in his head unbidden. "Maybe he can look places you can't."

The sheriff shook his head. "He has some resources internationally but nothing he would be able to use here. It's probably better to leave him out of it. He doesn't like Stiles any more than he likes me. I can't see him helping."

"But sometimes you just need people, ya know? Sometimes they can help," Scott said, frowning. He shoved at his food, thinking it over. The sheriff shook his head.

"Yep, I get that Scott. The last few weeks, your mom and you... I can't even begin to tell you how much help you've been."

"So then my dad..."

"Different kind of help," said the sheriff. "And he can't actually help. Too much red tape."

"He doesn't always stay inside the red tape though," Scott said. "Maybe he'll be able to think of something..."

The sheriff arched an eyebrow at him. "He'll only have half the story. Unless you told him about the... Claws and teeth thing?"

"Nope. Never gonna." Scott shook his head and sat up a little taller, his mental resolve on that issue unshakable. He trusted his dad, with some things, but not with _that_. Not after the look on his mom's face when she found out. The sheriff sighed and nodded.

"Then he won't have everything he needs to know," he said. He dug into his food like he needed the distraction. "He can't help. Thanks for the idea, but it won't go anywhere."

With no argument to that logic, Scott reluctantly left it alone.

 

***

 

School was easier to handle knowing Stiles was okay. Scott and Isaac still strategically spread rumors around about where Stiles had disappeared to and why his missing poster had a picture of Derek on it too. There were, at last count, twenty five different interpretations to the phrase "person of interest" and the thousand-plus student body had some lively debates on the issue during lunch hour.

"I am not one to resort to complaining, but this sucks," Lydia hissed at Scott quietly. He sat down and glanced at Allison for clarification of what Lydia was saying. Allison just split her attention between her salad and Lydia.

"We are ruining Stiles' reputation. Not that he doesn't do enough of that without our help. But this is..."

"So? It would do it without us. This way it's _every_ story we can think of instead of one or two that everyone assumes is true. He can set it straight when he gets back," said Scott. He shrugged. Lydia stared at him, her mouth slightly open just enough to show her disbelief. "What?"

"I think we've spoiled you," said Lydia on a sigh. "You have no idea how the high school machine works. Mono, he could live down. Everyone gets it. Running away with a former murder suspect sugardaddy, _that one_ is gonna follow him around awhile."

Scott cringed. "Fine. At least he leaves his academic years at Beacon Hills some kind of mystery that everyone's talking about."

"There is no mystery about Stiles Stilinski," said Lydia. "So it's just letting the whole school run down his name."

"But they _do_ know his name," said Isaac. "Coach actually called him Stiles the other day when he was asking Scott about him."

"He's never been so popular," added Scott. He just wasn't there to enjoy it, or make an idiot of himself in public; that's what his friends were for.

"Fine," said Lydia, but she still wasn't happy about it.

"Hey, Scott!"

Everyone looked up at a freshman Scott had been mentoring in English before everything went to hell for the second time in a single semester.

"Hey, Robby. Sorry about bailing-"

"No way, man. It's cool," said the kid. "I was just wondering how your friend was doing."

"Scurvy," announced Lydia. Scott looked at her, shocked, but she looked at Robby, all business. "It's turned into scurvy. It's gross."

The kid's eyes bugged and he looked to Scott for confirmation. Scott was a little slow but he caught on and nodded.

"Holy crap, I didn't know that was a real thing..." Said Robby.

"Yep. Real. Ugly mess. And he says _Argh_ a lot now. It's sad, really," said Lydia. Scott bit his lip and tried not to smile. Allison and Isaac suddenly found their lunches to be fascinating. Robby left looking like he had been dazed. Lydia's expression returned to her earlier annoyed.

"Scurvy?" Allison asked, a giggle finally sneaking out. Lydia glared over at Scott and Isaac.

"Why not? Pirate Stilinski. Since _everyone_ has heard of him now."

Scott rolled his eyes. Isaac shrugged it off.

"Next one I think should be alien abduction," he said. Lydia dismissed it.

" _They_ would have returned him by now."

 

***

 

Scott tracked everyone down after classes, just keeping tabs on them. He wasn’t stalking anyone, he wasn’t being creepy, and he tried to make that very clear. Allison seemed to understand, but her dad had told her about the thing in the car, and they’d had to re-establish the ‘ _not getting back together_ ’ status. Just on principle. It was frustrating. But Scott talked her around to believing him when he said it wasn’t a dating-thing. It was some _other-thing_ that he didn’t have a handle on and didn’t have anybody he could ask about it at the moment, which was the core of the problem anyway.

“Fine,” said Lydia. She was giving him the once-over like she suspected him of treason. Then she grabbed Scott’s hand and tugged him down the hall. Isaac and Allison followed, just as confused as Scott was. There was presumably an ultimate goal but it got derailed momentarily when they passed the bulletin board outside the principal’s office on the way out of the school. Lydia stopped so suddenly that Scott and his werewolf reflexes actually tripped on her. She glared at him and pointed his attention to the board, a manicured nail tapping at the photo of Stiles on the _MISSING_ poster.

“See? See what happens? How did you not see this coming?” she asked. Scott reluctantly looked to see what she was talking about and saw that someone had drawn an eyepatch over Stiles’ left eye and a Jack Sparrow-esque bandana around his forehead. The picture next to it that listed Derek as a person of interest had been mangled badly too. Isaac tried not to laugh. He failed.

“Is that a _beak_ on Derek?” he said, hiding a smile behind his hand. Allison elbowed him in the ribs and Isaac sobered up a little. Scott pointed Lydia’s attention back to the poster.

“You’re the one that said scurvy,” he said. Lydia arched an eyebrow at him.

“That is not my point,” she said. “Derek. Is. A. _Parrot_. That is what high school does. Stop feeding it so it’ll stop before he comes back.”

“They say they’re not coming back,” Scott said, frustrated.

“What do you mean they’re not coming back?” asked Allison, surprised.

“What do you mean _they say_?” said Lydia. Of the two of them, she was the more intimidating just then, and she was short. Scott blinked at her.

“They called. Last night,” said Scott, quiet. “Derek wants his car signed over to my mom. They seriously don’t think they’re coming home.”

“From where?”

“We don’t know. We think Canada but that’s just a guess.”

“You are terrible at getting information out of Stilinski,” said Lydia. “When is he calling next? Tell him to call me.”

“Lydia-”

The girl just crossed her arms and waited, glaring at him. “If you can’t get anything out of him, I can. I want to talk to him.”

“You can’t! I can’t!” Scott raised his voice but kept it under control. “His dad gets to. They don’t know we’re even there.”

Lydia stopped with the accusing attitude, but she didn’t back down from whatever she was angling at.

“So when is he calling next? I want to be there, too,” she said. That surprised Scott. Even Allison blinked.

“You want to talk to Stiles?” she asked.

“For, like, the first time in ten years?” added Scott.

“Yes, I want to talk to Stiles,” said Lydia. She squinted at Scott. “And not for the first time. Besides, you don’t get to talk to me about how to handle _stalkers_ right now.”

Calling Stiles a stalker was a little harsh and Lydia glanced over her shoulder at the poster, almost guilty. “Little pirate-faced stalkers. Whatever. I still want to talk to him.”

“They said they’ll try to call tonight. But if his dad can’t make him change his mind, you won’t be able to,” Scott pointed out. “They’re not coming back.”

“Who’s not coming back?” came a new voice. Ethan and Aiden showed up then, looking like students, like usual.

“We were just looking for you,” Lydia said, her tone instantly changed. It was like someone flicked a light switch as she turned toward Aiden, making Lydia instantly dimmer and fake. Scott rolled his eyes. He was staying out of it. He hadn’t figured out what to do about the twins yet, other than ignore them as much as possible, since Isaac tended to hiss at them in public if he didn’t.

“ _We_ didn’t go anywhere,” said Aiden. He was suspicious, so he had probably heard. Scott sighed and pointed toward the flyer on the bulletin board.

“Them. Derek and Stiles. Not coming back,” he said. Saying it to the twins just made Scott feel angry; it wasn’t like they’d care at all, so what was the point?

Aiden saw the poster and, while his twin nodded and went respectfully quiet, he shrugged. “He’s a pain in the ass. Now he can be someone else’s problem.”

Ethan stared at his brother in open disbelief as Isaac made to move past Scott. He stopped when Scott grabbed his arm but he was tense. Scott had to work at not letting the comment get to him. If Lydia had been frustrated at Scott before, she was mad now, and this time at Aiden.

“Not a good way to get in with the pack,” said Ethan, shoving his brother. Aiden pointed at the picture.

“Neither one of them would have let us in anyway,” he said. “It’s not like you’re shocked. I’m just being honest.”

“We were just looking for you,” said Lydia, talking over him in blatant annoyance, “Because I wanted to know if you could help sort out a problem. Of a lycanthropic nature. But I think maybe we’ll try the _library_.”

“No,” said Ethan. “What do you need?” He looked between Lydia and Scott, both of whom were otherwise preoccupied glaring at his twin. “We’ll help if we can help.”

Lydia arched an eyebrow and looked between them. “Fine. Then tell me why you want to join a pack so badly that you’ll hang out in a high school and try to get on Scott’s good side. When you’re not too busy otherwise saying stupid things.”

The twins looked at each other, confused by the question. Aiden crossed his arms, somehow uncomfortable by it.

“I don’t know,” said Ethan. “We’ve just always had one. And it’s safer. With other people around to watch your back, you know?”

“And it’s a... territory thing,” added Aiden. He untucked a hand to point at Scott. “This place is his. Everything about it is just this constant reminder. In our face about it that we don’t belong here, we should move on.”

“But we’ve gotta be somewhere,” Ethan said. “And here’s just as good as anywhere else, in anybody else’s territory.”

“You were alphas before. What happened when someone joined your pack?” asked Lydia.

“A lot of stuff. What d’you want to know about?”

“What happened when someone left your pack?” asked Scott suddenly. “What’d it do to the rest?”

Aiden drew himself up taller, again not liking the question. Tough shit, he could answer it or he could leave, Scott figured.

“Uh. It got stressful for awhile. Everyone was on edge. I kinda got these weird headaches,” said Ethan. He motioned toward his brother. “He couldn’t taste anything for a week. Sense of direction got a little weird... we kind of... herded the others. The ones we had left. We kept track of them. Obsessively.”

That was the exact opposite of anything Scott wanted to hear. He stretched his shoulders and adjusted his backpack, hanging on to the straps. “Great,” was all he said. He suddenly had other places he needed to be. Quick, before it settled in what that meant. Allison caught his attention, waving her phone just slightly so he could see the time.

“Scott? You’re supposed to be at work,” she said. It wasn’t technically true, Scott had time to kill if he wanted to. But Allison was giving him an out. With a nod, Scott took it. He started to leave and then hesitated. He slipped between Lydia and Allison to pull the flyer with the pirate and parrot doodles off the wall.

“Deaton’ll think it’s funny.” He shrugged at Lydia’s interrogatory expression and headed for the doors again. He was probably just going home and the vet’s office could do without him for a day.

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

Lydia and Allison showed up at the McCall's front porch at five pm on the nose, expecting Scott to just be getting home from the vet. He had locked himself in his room instead, fought for two hours to convince himself that what the twins had said wasn't true.

Losing someone wasn't what he was dealing with. Not any more than it would have been for Stiles or Allison. It was normal. Somewhere there had to be a definition of normal human behavior when one's best friend had been kidnapped by werewolf hunters and dragged to some _pack_ in Canada... Right. That wasn't exactly _normal_.

But it wasn't right that Scott could learn he had a pack by _losing_ people from it.

"Uh..." Scott stood at his door staring out on the porch, Lydia and Allison staring back at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you. I want to talk to Stiles," said Lydia. "So we are here."

Scott let them in but he wasn't happy about it. "I told you he doesn't call me. He calls his dad. We listen because there's people listening on their end, too."

"Fine then I'll listen," said Lydia. "I want to know he's okay, too."

Scott couldn't argue with that. But he didn't want to be around anyone to herd them. So he left the girls downstairs with Isaac and went upstairs to text Stiles' dad, to let him know that if Stiles called people wanted to talk to him. The guy showed up with pizza and salads an hour later.

Stiles didn't call at dinner time. It was hours of awkward socializing, Lydia determined to wait.

"Scott said he'll call tonight," reasoned Allison. "And it's Stiles. So he'll call."

That didn't make Scott feel any better considering he was apparently feeling the loss of pack. The longer it went without a phone call, the more certain he was that's what his problem was.

His mom got home late. Allison and Lydia started thinking about giving up for the night. And then, with the crowded living room wrapped up in a polite discussion of the girls' plans after high school, the sheriff's cell phone rang. Scott hadn't been expecting it. He startled as the sheriff grabbed for where he had left the phone on the coffee table.

"Hey Dad," came Stiles' voice. Scott happened to look over at Lydia then and sort of figured the both of them wore the same stupid smile knowing their friend was okay.

The sheriff got in hardly three words before Scott's mom stole the phone - no warning, she just attacked and pried it from his hands and Scott almost laughed - and started in on Stiles.

"Are you okay? What happened?" his mom asked, quick in case she got shoo'd off the call from the other end. "We found your shirt and there was blood all over and there was blood in the house! That better have been Derek's- is Derek there?"

"Yes!" Stiles sounded surprised by the interrogation and there was some static as the phone was juggled on the other end.

"Derek? Are you alright?" Melissa asked. A long pause followed, with more phone jostling.

"Uh..." Derek managed to try. "It was almost a month ago now..."

"Three weeks. Not a month yet," said Melissa.

"You're both wrong," said Stiles. "Try two weeks and change."

"So yeah. I healed," said Derek.

"What the hell are you thinking giving me your car?" Melissa asked. "You need it."

"Not at the moment," said Derek. "Your car is held together by duct tape, Melissa. Just take the car. I'll get a new one when I need one again."

"I'll pay you back," said Melissa. She held the phone and stood like she was going to start pacing. Every head in the room moved to keep her and the phone in direct sight.

"Nope." Derek sounded uninterested in the offer, almost sad.

"Derek..."

Derek cut her off. "Pretend it's an apology for the existence of Peter. Would that make you feel better?"

Scott saw his chance and pounced on it. He grinned up at his mom and said, "Yes!" as he snuck the phone out of Melissa's hand.

" _You_ still can't drive it," said Derek.

"Come on, man!" And suddenly Scott was best friends with Derek. They needed the car, it increased the odds of Scott getting to go look for them, but he wasn't going to say that out loud.

"It's your mom's. Not yours. So don't even." Derek said, obviously not catching on.

"Scotty! Lemme talk to-" Stiles tried.

Scott didn’t even entertain the thought of handing the phone off. Lydia glared at him and made to grab for it but he stood up too. Just to steer it to something that would annoy her, he asked Stiles, "No way, man. What the hell? You eloped-"

"We didn't. And _that's_ why you don't drive my car," interrupted Derek.

"Why not let that one get around?" Stiles asked Derek on the other end. "I'm not good enough for you now? Harsh, man..."

"Oh my god. I hate you two," muttered Derek, hardly audible over the phone. Lydia stood up, an odd look on her face, and crept a little closer to the phone. Scott too listened intently. Somehow the one without the super-sensitive hearing put it together first and broke into a smug grin. It clicked for Scott a moment later.

"Oh my god are you making out?" Even though he was on speakerphone, Scott held the phone right up to his mouth and made sure he was loud. "Right now? With me on the phone?"

"Now you know what it's like. Have fun being single, buddy!" said Stiles, but he sure took his time about it.

"Shut up. I choose the single life," said Scott. The banter quieted because the homesick kicked in for the two friends at apparently the same time. "But seriously. You guys are okay?"

"Yeah. I’ve never stayed out of trouble so well in my life,” said Stiles. “You’ve apparently been a terrible influence on me and should feel bad. All these years I thought it was me that was the problem.”

Either Stiles was overlooking a lot of trouble at the moment or he was drowning in sarcasm, Scott couldn’t decide. He frowned at the phone.

“Trust me, sweetie, it is _always_ you,” his mom said and Derek huffed apparent agreement on the other end. Melissa swooped in and took the phone away from him, like a phone conversation had turned into a game of keepaway for eight-year olds. Because his mom was short. Then Lydia, who was even shorter, took over the phone and it was obvious that Stiles didn’t recognize the change for a few seconds.

"Wait- are you- wait, Lydia?" he stammered out. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"No, obviously not. This entire conversation is taking place in your head, none of us are really ourselves," she said. Scott grinned in approval. Stiles scoffed from the other end of the phone line.

"It would take, like, no effort at all to make me believe that at this point," he said, sounding dazed. "It's a party twenty-four-seven here. I don't know what way is up."

"Yes you do," said Lydia. "If you didn't you couldn't operate a phone. You'd be sprawled on the floor, drooling, which I'm sure you have your moments but to your credit you mostly avoid that in public."

"You're on speakerphone," Stiles told her, sounding at least a little amused. "So there's that mystery solved. And I am actually kinda on the floor now that you mention it."

"Why?" The news disturbed her for some reason and some of Scott's amusement faded.

"No reason, I just kinda am. Derek's a good arm-rest and-" Stiles broke off as laughter registered somewhere close to him. It sounded like Derek. But how could that possibly be Derek Hale? Since when did _he_ find the world funny?

“What?” asked Stiles, interrupting an actual conversation with people he couldn’t talk to any other day of the week to figure out why Derek had suddenly lost his mind. “Guys, hang on... I think I broke Derek...” he said into the phone and Derek lost it again.

There was a lot of scuffling sounds, the phone mic scratching across clothes and muffling everything. Stiles must have taken it off speaker because Scott had a hard time understanding anything being said.

Then he put the phone back on speaker and they could hear everything clearly again.

“Okay, I was wrong,” said Stiles. “I didn’t break him, Dad did. Dad? You’re not allowed to kill my boyfriend, okay? I promise he’s not a pimp or a murderer.”

... _Wait_. Scott mentally tripped over that one. He looked to Lydia and the smug grin on _her_ face didn't help.

“What!” squawked the sheriff’s voice from half-way across the room. He stood up and started toward the phone.

Scott was still shocked by the whole scene unfolding, asking over it, “Wait, that’s Derek laughing? I thought it was one of the others there...”

“Nope, it’s Derek...” Stiles broke off when a chair on his end moved, noisy. Derek had already stopped laughing but Scott heard a sharp intake of breath that wasn't Stiles.

“Shit,” muttered Stiles, his own amusement noticeably faded. “I gotta go guys. Somebody hug my dad for me-”

“Wait! When are you calling again? I was in the jeep this morning-” his dad asked.

“I dunno. I think we fucked up or something so I’m not sure... gotta go,” Stiles rushed out. For almost a minute after the line went dead, nobody said anything. They stared at each other, all wondering what the hell had just happened and not having any answers.

"Is there a time limit or something?" Allison asked. "I mean, is that... Normal?"

The sheriff shook his head. "They've never said. They just call. If there are rules, they haven't told us."

"This is the first time we said anything though," said Scott.

"You pointed out they weren't alone on their end of the call," said Allison. She frowned and crossed her arms. "If they're hunters, they know you can hear them."

"We don't know what they are," said Scott. But all the same, he felt the blame. He looked to the sheriff. "Sorry if I..."

Stiles' dad shook his head as he collected the phone. But that didn't exactly make Scott feel any better about whatever had just happened to Stiles and Derek.

 

****

 

The next day there was another phone call, just like the new usual. Except it wasn’t usual. The sheriff answered the phone on speaker and Stiles said hi. But instead of his usual break into banter, he talked over the sheriff’s return greeting. He sounded agitated and annoyed.

“Dad? Where are you? Are you at Scott’s?” he asked. Scott and the sheriff looked at each other, neither one certain what the correct answer was. They could lie easily enough, but there was no telling if that would be worth it.

“Yeah, I’m at Scott’s,” the sheriff finally said.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re at Scott’s,” said Stiles. “We can only talk when him and Isaac aren’t around.”

Since it was obviously already expected that Scott was listening in, he didn’t hesitate to get involved in this new mystery. "What? Why?!"

"Uhm... I can't answer that."

"Yes you can," said Scott, annoyed.

"Scott, man, you're my bro, but no. I can't," said Stiles. “I gotta hang up. I’ll... call my dad back later when he’s home.”

And he did. He hung up. Just like that, Stiles was gone and worse than that, it was unquestionably Scott’s fault. He scrubbed at his face and started to apologize. The sheriff shook his head.

“It’s not your fault,” said Stiles’ dad. “It’s the asshole on the other end. Whoever he is.”

The sheriff stood up and started to gather his jacket. “I’m headed to the house. If you want to listen in, we’ll do it from there. But I don’t trust there’s not someone watching the place if they’re pulling this shit.”

“Are you serious?” Scott asked. This was his mom’s house. He didn’t want anyone watching it. The sheriff nodded.

“Until I know what the hell is going on, I’m not ruling anything out, Scott. So better safe than sorry, I’ll take the calls at my place. You’re welcome to come over for it, but no talking. No noise,” he said. He shook his head and heaved a sigh. He looked like he wanted to say more but seemed to talk himself out of it.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, “Or I’ll call you after to let you know what I find out. One of the two.”

Scott just nodded mutely, frustrated. He wasn’t sure yet if he would chance leaving the house. But he was certain that this whole thing was bullshit.

 

***

 

Being told he wasn't allowed to talk to his best friend on the phone stung. A lot. It was kind of a last-straw for Scott. He had to do _something_. The only thing he hadn't tried yet was to go to his father. His dad knew about the fact that Stiles had disappeared. He was in law enforcement, he would have recognized Stiles' name show up on an Amber Alert. He probably would have recognized Derek's name associated with it. Maybe he had looked into it without saying anything to the sheriff. So Scott called him.

"If you're calling about Stiles, no, I don't know anything," his dad said within seconds of Scott saying hello. It was jarring and made Scott feel guilty.

"All I said was _hi_ ," said Scott, defensive.

"Yes, and that is quite literally _all_ you've said in about a month now," said the agent on the other end of the line. "I kind of investigate suspicious activity for a living, Scott. This one is kind of obvious."

"Okay. Then could you investigate your way into investigating where my best friend went?" Scott asked. "Since you know why I'm calling I'll just get right out there with it."

"He's a runaway, son. You can't just drop actual cases to look up why a teenager is unhappy enough to leave town. Especially not _that_ teenager," his dad said. "In case you hadn't noticed, Stiles is an argumentative, spoiled brat. His dad is just as meddlesome and hard-headed. The kid is just acting out-"

"No he's not!" Scott was frustrated by the assessment because he knew how very wrong it was. But he wasn't sure how he could prove it to his dad. "He and his dad were fine. Someone _made_ them leave otherwise Stiles and Derek wouldn't have left. They were good here."

"Apparently not. Maybe you don't know your friends as well as you thought, Scott."

"I know them," said Scott. "Better than you do. And I know _they'd_ help me if something happened to mom or Allison."

"Yeah, I've seen their version of helping and I can't say I agree with you there, either," said Agent McCall. _Class A asshole_ , Scott realized. "How's your mom doing, by the way?"

Scott scowled at the phone and nearly threw it at the wall. This was not helping. The sheriff was right. He definitely called it. Scott's dad wasn't even going to pretend to care. Scott took a breath and calmed down.

"She's worried about Stiles just like I am," said Scott. Then, just to fight back, he added, "She and the sheriff have been dating for like a month. So I'll let them know you asked."

Scott hung up after that. He was past done with his dad just then. Maybe he'd send him a card at Christmas. A blank one.

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

A week before winter break, they still hadn't found Stiles. He had called and very carefully not said anything helpful in the conversations, so they knew he was alive. Scott eavesdropped from as far away from the phone as he could get and still hear. That was the only good part of the situation, and that wasn't so much good as it was the only thing that didn't completely suck. His friend was still gone and it was still a stupid werewolf problem which meant it was just enough Scott's fault that he could guilt himself out over it.

Life had gotten back to a routine. The sheriff had calmed down and kept his own space. Scott was pretty certain their parents were dating now but he didn't really want to ask if they didn't want to tell him. Which was weird but not something Scott had to think about. He and Isaac went to school every day, scouted around Derek's loft afterward to be sure Peter's car was still around, and they did their homework. Allison and Lydia kept tabs on the rumor mill at school and they said things had died down a lot thanks to winter break coming up. And they all had midterms to deal with for the same reason.

Scott was still awake, doggedly reading and studying for the history test, at midnight on a Monday. His cell phone rattling on the desk startled him out of it. It was from a number he didn't know and he was too tired to deal with it so he almost sent it to voicemail. Something stuck at the back of his mind and made him answer it anyway.

"Hello?" Scott said, half expecting a prank.

"Hey, man... Sorry, it's late, huh?" The familiar voice woke Scott up fast and he closed his textbook.

"Stiles! What- how- what are you calling me for? Your dad-"

"I just called him. He's good," said Stiles.

"Great so what about you?" said Scott. "You've never called me."

"Yeah, the bastard wouldn't let me," said Stiles. "But I've got the phone now so I'll call whoever I damn well want."

Stiles' tone said this was a social call, the kind where there were no emergencies, no epic secrets, no nothing except the guy wanted to hang out on the phone. But he was angry.

"Dude. Seriously, are you okay?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, m'fine," said Stiles. "We're locked in our room and we actually got dinner tonight. I was betting we wouldn't 'cause I was trying to piss him off all day, but it worked out."

The call was so very different. Scott just sat and stared at the window, slack jawed and surprised. Stiles was actually talking. There was nobody there.

"Are you by yourself?" Scott asked.

"No, I've got Derek. Think he's asleep though."

"Did you steal the phone or something?" asked Scott.

"Nope. I made him give me the phone. He wants something from me, he can deal with my terms," said Stiles. "I'm kinda... Extorting my hostage taker. So I get the phone."

"What the hell, dude-"

"He was gonna send me home and said I could stay with Derek if I went back to school," said Stiles. He sounded pissed. "So I'm doing school online and I made him give me the phone."

"Why didn't you come home?"

"Because Derek can't leave. I'm staying with him until we figure this out, how to get him out of it."

"Are you stupid? What are you- Stiles! Come home and then we can all go get him if we have to because you'll know where he is!" Scott was trying not to be loud and wake anyone but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "All we know is you're in Canada. The last time I looked at a map, that's a big country!"

"That's why I'm not coming home until it's fixed, Scott. I'm not gonna tell you where we are or who dragged us here because then you guys will do something stupid like try to come get us. It'll get everybody killed."

Scott went quiet as he processed it. Finally he shook his head. "No. Stiles. Come on. You're just gonna stay there?"

"Yeah. We got it figured out now. We can handle it from here." Scott started to disagree but Stiles talked over him. "I didn't call to argue about it, dude. I just called to say I have a phone now. It's mine and I'm keeping it. So you know how to reach me if you want."

"Okay," said Scott.

"Just don't ask me stuff I already told you I'm not gonna talk about. That part's still the same," said Stiles.

"I wanna help, man," Scott said. "I want you home and back at school here."

"Me too. But this is all I've got for now. Okay? So if you wanna help, let that be good enough for awhile."

Weighing it out, Scott tried to figure out if that was something he could even do. He had been so used to doing nothing lately anyway, it wasn't like Stiles was asking all that much from him.

"Yeah," he said finally. "It is."

"Thanks, Scotty. I just- yeah." Stiles trailed off like he wanted to say more but this time it was because he was tired and because the whole thing frustrated the both of them. Scott let it hang there for a minute before he tried to draw his friend back out.

"I dunno, man. Now I gotta either ask about you joining fight club or ask about Derek and that could just get weird."

Stiles laughed, which was what Scott had been aiming for. Yeah, he could do this.

"Derek's awesome. His hair's super soft and he smells like sunshine and BBQ sauce," said Stiles, and Scott knew revenge when he heard it. Even if that was completely and totally weird; he never once compared Allison to _BBQ sauce_.

"What the hell, Stiles..." he heard Derek say, his voice muffled by something but close to where Stiles held the phone. They weren't on speakerphone for once. Stiles was still smug and laughing at his own joke as he told Derek to go back to sleep so he could annoy Scott some more. And Scott kicked back in his desk chair and waited to see what Derek would let Stiles come up with.

He could do this.

 

***

 

Scott was in the middle of attempting to enjoy the first few days of his Christmas break when things went kind of sideways on him. He and Isaac were gaming, Scott kicking Isaac’s ass because he was a noob and had only been playing for a few months, when his cell phone went off. Scott almost ignored it because it was his battle, he was going to trounce that boss and drag them up a level. But then Isaac helpfully attempted to provide back up and accidentally - or so he claimed - shot Scott’s player in the ass.

“We need food anyway,” Scott reasoned and he shut off the TV to go find lunch. As he walked to the kitchen, he checked his phone and discovered three piled up messages from Peter Hale. “What the hell...”

_ _Dude they took my phone so don’t call it or anything._ _

_ _I stole Peter’s. We’re going home!_ _

_ _Hey dumbass where are you?_ _

Scott could only stare for the longest time. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and Isaac just walked around him. He started prowling for food as Scott tried to sort out if he trusted the text messages. He could guess easily enough where it came from. But he wasn’t sure he could believe it. Since when did Peter Hale do anything remotely useful and not entirely self-serving? Since when did he actually help? Scott sent a text back.

__Is this a joke?_ _

Mere seconds later he got a reply.

_ _No! Me and Derek will b home tonight. LATe. I stole Peter’s phone to tell u._ _

Scott replied quickly, a big smile on his face. _ _Stiles?_ _

_ _No Santa Claws. Get with the program, Scotty.__

__Lie. Christmas is on Sunday. This is only Thursday.__

__Bite me.__

Scott forgot what he went into the kitchen for until Isaac snapped him out of his conversation on the cellphone.

“What is it?” he asked.

“They’re coming back. Peter actually found them and they’re coming back,” Scott said, still trying to make it sink into his head.

“Does this mean your mom’s gotta give the truck back?” Isaac asked. Scott looked over at him and tried not to laugh but Isaac was grinning at his own joke and it broke him down. He passed it along to Stiles.

_ _Tell Derek he doesn’t get the Toyota back. No take-backs._ _

_ _He can drive Roscoe then_._

Scott didn’t share that with Isaac, just laughed into his chest as he stared down at the phone. _ _You are so whipped._ _

_ _Did I mention I can kick your ass now? coz I can._ _

 

***


	7. Chapter 7

The next day Scott got a phone call that Stiles was in town finally and needed to talk to him. It was some kind of emergency though, which was weird. How had Stiles been back in town long enough to find more trouble already? So he snagged Isaac and they headed out to meet the recently-returned. When Scott showed up at the game house, he hung out outside with Isaac for awhile, waiting for Stiles and Derek to show up.

"I thought they said to meet them here?" said Isaac. "Are you sure they're really in town?"

"Positive," said Scott. He finished a text and sent it to Stiles' phone. His real one. The one that had been sitting on the charger in his room for a month unused. Stiles had it back now. Life was so close to being normal, but for some reason Scott still felt... off. Just like he had a few weeks earlier. The reply came back and Scott made a face at his phone.

"They went inside already," he said. Isaac looked predictably annoyed.

"Do they know it's loud and noisy in there and that I might kill a small child if it screams?" he asked. Scott grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, pretty sure Derek knows that," he said. All the same, they braved the racket of the restaurant, tried to ignore the bells and alarms of the games and the happy shrieks of kids playing in the ball pit. The room was painted bright colors and games cast neon lights in random patterns. The place was chaos. But they found Stiles and Derek sitting as far at the back as they could get. A relieved smile took over Scott's face. Derek saw him first and nodded toward him to direct Stiles' attention. Then Stiles was out of the booth and Scott caught him in a hug the second they were in reach.

"Scott! Man, I missed you. Oh my god..." And Scott nodded, hung on a little tighter around Stiles' ribs.

"I missed you too, bro," he said. "Don't freakin' disappear again."

"We're working on that part," said Stiles, some of the relief tramped down by anxiety. He let go then and Isaac pounced on him. Scott laughed and looked to Derek. He seemed standoffish and worried, looking around beyond Stiles and Isaac for something.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked, reluctant. He didn't want anything to be wrong.

"We're not supposed to be here," said Derek. "So if someone shows up, we have to leave."

"So that's what's with the spy games, huh?" Isaac said. Stiles stood beside Scott and nodded.

"It's a long story," he said. Scott frowned at them. Derek nodded toward Isaac.

"He should go keep watch so we can get this over with faster," he said. At Isaac's arched eyebrow, Derek nodded. "You'll know the problem when you see it show up. So if you don't, we're fine."

Isaac looked at Scott, uncertain, and Scott nodded. Isaac headed off to go play arcade games as Stiles slid into the booth with Derek and Scott took the free bench. There was a weird energy around them that was making Scott anxious but he couldn't figure out what the problem was. It seemed to have Derek just as off as Scott felt though.

"What's going on?"

"We need your help with something, Scott," said Stiles. "It's really small, really stupid, but it's easy. You can't get in any trouble for it."

"We'll get in more trouble for asking you," added Derek. "Which is why we can't be here long."

And that made no sense, so - already out of time or not - Scott made them start over at the beginning.

 

***

 

“I don’t get it,” said Scott. Stiles shook his head, his eyes rolling dangerously.

“Neither do we,” he said. “But that’s what we’ve got.”

“What do you need to talk to Gerard about?” Scott asked. Derek bristled slightly, letting his frustration eek out.

“It’s a pack matter,” he said. Stiles elbowed him hard in the ribs and Scott looked back at them, clueless.

“The new pack?” Scott asked. He didn’t trust the “new pack” idea any more than Stiles did. Derek took a careful breath. Even Stiles caught the noise and looked over at Derek.

“Lemme talk to Scott,” he said. He nodded back toward the food bar. “Go get a drink or something.”

With a huff of dry amusement, Derek arched an eyebrow at him. “Did you seriously just say that?”

Again with the eyeroll. Derek shook his head. “Yes, dear,” he muttered. Stiles smirked at him and waggled his eyebrows like a jerk. Scott sat back in slight amazement. These were his friends and he was seeing something from the both of them he had never expected to. His best friend was making doe-eyes at Derek Hale’s backside as the man walked away. It was... it was surreal is what it was, but at the same time it almost wasn’t. Scott actually stared until Stiles caught him at it.

“What?” he asked. He looked like he was going to get defensive so Scott shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I just don’t understand why it’s suddenly so important that Derek _Hale_ gets in to talk to _Gerard_ Argent, when you know as well as I do how bad an idea that is.”

“He’s not gonna hurt him,” said Stiles. Scott swore his friend just lied to him.

“You don’t know that, I don’t know that-”

Stiles let out a frustrated, strangled noise and clenched his fingers in his shaggy hair, like he was trying to contain his usual capacity for exasperation. "Scott... We seriously just need to talk to the guy. It's why we were allowed to come home."

Scott shook his head, stabbed a finger on the table between them. "Yeah, but it's Gerard. What do you need from him? He's old and he's sick and he's not causing trouble-"

"We were allowed to come home. Allowed. Heavy emphasis on _allowed_ ,” said Stiles. “What part of that lack of self-agency are you not getting, man? Deucalion's just gonna shove us in a _box_ and drag us back. I can't _stay home_ unless I talk to-"

"Hey! Hale!" someone announced in the crowded room. Scott looked up when Stiles jerked to attention. Looking around, he spotted one of the guys from the lacrosse team waving at them from a pack of friends as they moved between games. "How was the honeymoon?"

Oh, crap. Scott rolled his eyes. Stiles stared over at their classmate, arms out in confusion. Trying to get Stiles' attention back, Scott reached over the table and waved a hand at him.

"Just ignore them-"

"They just called me Hale..." said Stiles. "After the month I've had, you have no idea how weird-"

Scott nodded and shrugged it off. "Yeah, since they think you eloped-"

Stiles jolted in his seat again, leaning forward to glare at Scott. "Seriously? That's really what you told people?"

Not seeing the big deal, Scott shook his head to dismiss it. It was just one rumor out of a hundred. And it completely wasn't what Scott thought they were there to talk about. "Look at it this way: now the next time we have a need for virgin sacrifices, nobody will put you on the short list."

He thought maybe Stiles was going to injure something trying to keep quiet. "Dude. No. Okay. We were in public twenty-four-seven. What part of doing the deed in a crowded werewolf den sounds like fun to you? _They_ were the only ones with keys to open our door. And they did. _All the time_. So just no. Take your experience-points and shove it, Romeo."

"Woah, man, calm down..."

"No. Derek's gonna be pissed." Stiles shoved back in the bench and kicked the other side. Scott stared at him, surprised by the anger he saw so clearly.

" _You're_ pissed," he said. Stiles nodded. He waved off toward the group that had started it.

"People are jerks. He's here too, remember? What d'you think he's gonna get?"

Willing his friend to calm down, Scott leaned forward and slouched on the table so he could stay quiet. "Nothing. It only went around the school. So did the story where you were dead and the sheriff framed Derek for it. And the one you got cancer and died. And the one where you went to military school..."

Anger fading to embarrassment, Stiles slouched in the seat. Scott moved on with the list.

"And you got mono. That one's a popular one. They kinda forgot about the Amber Alert since it was a month ago."

As Scott carried on, Stiles buried his face in his hands.

"Lydia started it around that you had scurvy, too. Someone drew an eyepatch on your poster in the office after that. And they turned Derek into a parrot."

Stiles stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. "Oh my god."

"Come on, man. You were gone for over a _month_..." Scott said.

Stiles waved toward where Derek had disappeared to. "Apparently on my honeymoon."

"But you know the school's gonna talk. We just... Kinda threw everything out there into it so nobody knew anything," Scott said, sober and frowning. "You've been like the second most popular gossip for weeks."

“Do I wanna know what was the first?” Stiles was still cringing so Scott just shook his head.

“No, you really don’t.”

Stiles leaned forward and crossed his arms over the table to bury his face in. A second later his phone buzzed and he checked the text without pulling his head up from the table.

“Shit,” he said, quiet. Scott blinked at him.

“Shit- what shit?” he asked.

“They’re here. They know I’m talking to you. They can hear me... We are so screwed.” For a second Scott was worried Stiles was going to have a panic attack. Then his breathing evened out and he pulled himself together. Not sure what to do, Scott stared at him.

“Stiles, please?” he said. “Just tell me what’s going on. I won’t help you get to the Argents but maybe I can help with the other-”

“ _Don’t_ say it, Scott,” said Stiles. He stood up, shoulders slumped. “The Argents thing is the only help we need. And I’m not even supposed to be talking to you.”

Scott stood up then, too, anger sneaking out. He had to work hard to keep his voice down. “I don’t care what they-”

“Yeah, well. I have to,” said Stiles. “You don’t, but I do.”

No matter how hard he tried to wrap his mind around the change in behavior, Scott just couldn’t make this Stiles track with the version of his best friend who had been at school with him the day before he disappeared a month earlier. As he stood there, stuck and frustrated, Stiles caught him in a hug.

“Forget we asked, okay? I’m serious. We never had this conversation, at all, any of it,” he said. It did nothing to help Scott’s confusion and he returned the hug tight. Stiles pulled back with a shadow of the usual grin on his face. “Except I missed you, man. That part, yeah.”

And then Scott watched him walk off, stood there stupid and confused as Stiles stole a drink off of a coke in front of Derek and smacked some nearby stranger on the back of the head. The blond guy turned on the bar stool and watched them leave. He seemed to catch Scott staring at him then and turned back to his own drink. Then he left, too. Scott started to follow him but then he realized he couldn’t leave without Isaac and had to track him down. By the time he had his backup, the stranger had disappeared, and Derek’s truck had already left the lot.

 

***


	8. Chapter 8

The door slammed open a bit harder than Scott meant to. He frowned at it, angry and accusing it of one more frustration to the pile, but he continued on inside. He dropped his helmet and backpack behind the counter and headed to the back of the vets office to get started on his chores for the day. Cleaning things. Feeding things. Mundane. Logical things that made sense and didn't confuse the life out of him. What the hell was Stiles thinking anyway? Scott kicked a bag of dog food on the floor. It wasn't exactly making him feel better.

"Are you alright?" came Deaton's voice from the doorway. Scott turned to acknowledge him but then just shrugged and went back to work prepping a space to start feeding trays.

"Yeah. M'fine."

"You're scaring the animals," said Deaton. "I somehow doubt that's entirely true."

Scott made a face at the dog food bags. Then he looked up at Deaton. "Stiles came back. And Derek."

While Scott tried to focus on work, Deaton walked in the room to talk about it all. "I would have thought that was good news."

It wasn’t that Scott really wanted to talk about any of it at all, but he couldn’t exactly talk about it with his mom. She would just get worried and it would only make everything worse. She couldn’t help him figure it out. And Scott was stuck. He wanted to help his friend. But he really, really didn’t trust Stiles or Derek when they said they just wanted to talk. Not after everything they had to have been through. Stiles looked beat up, so Scott could only imagine what Derek had lived through, and there was no way that would lead to them _just talking_ to Gerard Argent. It didn’t add up. But Scott couldn’t abandon his friends again, like he felt like he had sitting through a month at home with them gone.

"It's weird,” Scott said, finally looking back at Deaton. “They gotta talk to Gerard. They're saying they've been in Canada with Deucalion and now they need to talk to Gerard. Just talk. But what the heck, man."

"Deucalion?" asked Deaton. He looked surprised and concerned. Scott nodded.

"Yeah. He brought them back. And he's going to take them again, unless they can talk to Allison's grandpa? It doesn't make sense."

Deaton shook his head. He looked like he was still thinking it all over, like he had something to say about it, but he didn’t seem inclined to share. "No, I imagine it won't. Stay out of this, Scott."

"Well, I told them I won't help."

"Good," Deaton said. He seemed settled on it and moved to help Scott take care of the animals that would be boarding at the vet’s office over the holiday.

"Why?" asked Scott. He watched his boss carefully, confused. That wasn’t the help and advice he had come to expect from Deaton.

"Because... Deucalion left you out of the trouble this time,” Deaton said. He shrugged a bag of dog food onto a shoulder. “He wants Derek. My guess is that it's a family matter. And not yours to get involved in."

Still crouched over the bag of dog food, Scott looked up at him. "The Hales and the Argents are related?"

Deaton shook his head. "No. But as I understand it, Derek and Deucalion are."

"That's crazy. Last time they were here, Stiles said the alphas shoved a three-inch pipe through Derek's ribs. The guy tried to kill him-"

The news didn’t seem to surprise Deaton at all. "They're werewolves, Scott. They know better than you what their bodies can withstand, or your own. They _play_ rougher than you. Stay out of it."

"But Stiles is in it," said Scott.

"And I'm rather amazed he's still alive for it," Deaton replied. "Just don't count on being that lucky. You'll heal, but you can still be hurt. I suggest you let Derek handle the alphas if he brought them back to town."

"Stiles said it was more the other way around."

"I imagine so if they've been gone this long." Deaton seemed to consider the conversation closed and turned toward the door. Scott let it rest there, thinking it all over.

"How is Deucalion related to the Hales?" he asked. "Because Stiles’ dad let Peter go find them and if Peter was lying and knew where they were the whole time-"

"Peter was too young to know anything more than rumors," said Deaton, shaking his head. "I doubt he kept in touch after the incident a few months ago. He wouldn't have a reason to."

Too surprised as the pieces clicked in his head, Scott forgot what he had walked into the room to do then. He stood up, followed his boss out into the hall. "Wait. So you’re saying that Deucalion is Derek's family but not Peter's?" Scott asked. "Is that Derek's _dad_?"

"Hardly," said Deaton, scoffing. He shook his head. "The man is no father to anyone. But within the packs there was plenty suspicion he was at the very least a - how did you call it? - a genetic donor?"

Scott stared, slack jawed. Deaton shook his head. The bag of food was dropped on the counter in the room with the animals and he turned to face Scott’s questions more directly.

"Talia was a hard woman, Scott. She kept company with the worst kind of people just to keep them in line. And at the time, Deucalion was not the villain he turned in to. He was an alpha of his own pack. Power attracts power."

"But he's crazy," said Scott.

"You must not think that entirely true," said Deaton. "I recall you saying it was your decision to let him live rather than pay a life for the deaths he had caused."

"Yeah, but that was before he stole my best friend."

Deaton nodded, patient as usual despite a heavy sigh. "As I said, stay out of it. It is a family dispute and those are impossible to get out of once you're in them," he said. "Trust me, I have much experience with the Hale family problems at his point."

"Well, Stiles is still in it," said Scott. "So I still have to pay attention."

 

***

 

Scott found himself at Chris Argent's door after work.

"At least you knock," Chris said instead of anything that made sense as a hello. Scott blinked at him but let it go. The odd greeting didn't make him feel any better about being there. He scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"If this is about letting Stiles and Derek talk to my father, save your breath," Chris said. Scott stared at him.

"They asked you?"

"They broke into my house two hours ago. And then they asked me when I kicked them out," the hunter said.

"Okay that was stupid," said Scott. "But do you know how freakin' desperate they'd have to be to ask _you_?"

"The more relevant question is do I _care_ ," said Chris. "And the answer would still be _no_. I have no idea what actually went on but Stiles showing up looking like he's been through a ringer doesn't make me inclined to let either of them around my family."

"Well will you let me?" Scott asked. "I've been before. Maybe your dad has a clue what they want. Because they wouldn't tell me."

Chris stared at him, accusing and searching for a double-cross. Scott shook his head.

"That's my best friend, okay? He's smarter than this. Something is seriously wrong and I'll take whatever help I can get figuring that out. Even if it's your dad," said Scott. After weighing it out, Chris reluctantly nodded.

"Fine. We take my car," he said. "And your phone stays in your pocket."

"I'm not spying for them," said Scott, grinning despite himself at the hunter's paranoia. Chris just glared at him for it and Scott stepped back away from the door to wait for him to lead the way.

 

***

 

Gerard seemed a lot healthier than the last time Scott had seen him. The cancer had weakened him then, but now it was gone. The werewolf bite had slowly chased it through the ash poisoning and now Gerard could stand just as tall as he had before. He bled black like before. The ash was still keeping him in check. So far. He was walking around, still a black-goo-leaking hot-air bag, but healthier and less fragile looking. Scott tried not to feel guilty about that. Maybe the guy would clean up his act now that he was stronger; less pain had to change him for the better, just because he couldn't get much worse than he started.

"Ah, visitors. The holidays always bring out the charitable spirits," said Gerard as Scott followed Chris into the room.

"This isn't a social visit," said Chris. He crossed his arms, watched his father with open distrust. Scott nodded his agreement.

"I want to know why Derek Hale wants to talk to you," said Scott. He waved a hand between himself and Chris at the risk of being glared at. "Well, _we_ do. Since we're both here. But- what did you do now?"

"Do?" echoed Gerard. He laughed. "I hardly leave this room aside from a walk twice a day. A frail old man with no need for a leash. What could I possibly _do_?"

"We don't know, that's why it's rather odd that the man is suddenly interested in having a chat," said Chris. "Conjures up all kinds of concerns for people's safety."

"I have no interest in talking to Derek Hale," said Gerard. "I have a vested interest in seeing him dead, but I'm not ready for that. No strength. It may never come to pass. But it gives me reason to keep breathing, locked up in this _cage_."

"What?" asked Scott. "Your little war should be over. Everyone is _dead_ because of it! Leave the Hales alone."

"Oh, this has nothing to do with any war, Scott." Gerard shook his head and paced away from the window, toward them. "I am all but cured. All that's left is this damned black oil. No one knows what or why it is and it is preventing me from healing... But the cancer is gone. Just a memory. This lycanthrope has served its purpose. Now all I need the Hale boy for is the cure."

"You can't cure it," said Scott. "The cure is just a myth. You want to not be a werewolf anymore, have Chris string you up in a tree and chop you in half. _That's_ the only cure."

"Oh, no, my boy. There are _plenty_ of cures. A handful _at least._ Only one of them have I ever seen be successful," said Gerard. He paused and considered it, then shrugged and wiped a line of black away from his upper lip with a tissue. "Aside from the sword. Successful, that one, but not one I have ever considered an option in this situation."

"What then?" asked Scott.

"The obvious one, of course," said Gerard. Scott waited, impatient and annoyed at the game. He looked to Chris. Chris considered it before he shrugged.

"If you kill the one who bit you, kill the sire, then the curse is gone. The line wiped out," said Chris. Scott blinked. At first his mind got caught on the old lore, one only a year ago Derek had told him about and tried to sell him on. Even Derek said it would work, and it kind of made sense.

"Like with the alphas," he realized. "They killed the ones they sired and took away the betas' power to wipe them out. It's just backwards."

Chris nodded. "It probably has something to do with that dynamic."

"So I kill Derek Hale, I am cured," said Gerard, quite happy at the thought. It snapped Scott away from thoughts of the alpha pack.

Derek was Gerard's werewolf sire. He made him a wolf. It only happened because Scott bought into Gerard's promises, and it was just like Derek had said; from the start Gerard had planned to kill whoever turned him. Scott hadn't seen that far ahead at the time. And now... Now he thought of Derek as the guy who helped Stiles. He remembered the guy Stiles got to laugh and who Stiles rambled about on the phone when he was allowed to call, and Scott saw somebody who was important instead of just the untrustworthy nephew of the werewolf who had turned him. And Derek was trustworthy, Stiles trusted him. He got Stiles home. And Gerard wanted to kill him.

"Crap," muttered Scott.

"Scott?" asked Chris, suddenly concerned. "Where did you say Stiles had been all month?"

"With al-" Scott's response died quickly. He shook his head. "Nope."

"They've been with the alpha pack," said Chris.

"That's not why they wanted to see him," said Scott, completely certain. "They wanted to talk. That's it."

"Talk?" Gerard asked. He laughed. "About my death most likely. To shore him up as an alpha. Fit in with his new pack. Scott, the company you keep..."

"That's not-"

"They broke into my house, Scott," Chris said, interrupting him.

Scott shook his head. "That's not normal-"

"Exactly. So you don't know why they're here. But if the alphas brought them, and my father is the only beta Derek's got left, why do you think he's here? Stiles said it was a matter of life and death for them. Those were his words. Now I don't know about you, but I've seen that kid fight pretty dirty when his back was up against a wall."

"Not like this though," insisted Scott. "You've got it wrong."

"We don't," said Gerard. He looked to his son. "Which is why we'll _use_ this. With a little help, just a little, we can end this early when he makes his move."

Chris frowned, looking between his father and Scott. He reluctantly nodded. "I'll look into it," he promised. He looked to Scott. "You. You should stay away. If Peter dragged you into things, and now the alphas are sniffing around Derek? You're up on the same platter as Gerard. And Peter Hale wouldn't think twice about you."

Scott stared at him, surprised and considering. "The sheriff sent Peter to find them," he realized. "Peter brought them back, but the alphas came with them."

"Oh, son," said Gerard, laughing quietly. "You are in trouble."

Scott bristled but didn't rise to it. "I'm staying out of it," he said.

"Good," said Chris. He nodded toward the door. "We're not far from your place. See yourself home. I need to talk to my father."

Scott looked between them, not liking any of it, but he nodded. Deaton was right. It was all family business, older than Scott and had nothing to do with him.

But he still trusted Stiles more than he trusted a family war.

 

***


	9. Chapter 9

Scott didn't hear from Stiles that night or the next day. Everyone else checked in with Scott when he sent out the text roll-call. Stiles, though, didn't. When he drove by the Stilinski house, the sheriff's car was gone, and Derek's was parked in its place. Peter's was there, too. Old Roscoe wasn't.

On a hunch, Scott texted Peter.

_ _Do you have Stiles and Derek?_ _

It took a few minutes before Peter replied.

_ _Not voluntarily._ _

It was probably mutual but Scott didn't point that out. He tried to calm down then, figuring the response meant they were working some Deucalion errand. That irked Scott though. They were on _his_ territory. He didn't like that they were home and still listening to _that_ alpha. Stiles was _his_ friend, _his_ pack. Derek could and would do whatever he wanted, that was his thing, but if _Stiles_ went with Derek in whatever that was, there was gonna be problems with this arrangement of Deucalion's.

By the end of his shift at Deaton's, Scott had made up his mind that he wasn't staying out of it. Hale family matters or not, it messed with Scott's pack and he wasn't going to sit by a let that slide without a fight.

 

***

 

Once Scott finally got Stiles to text him back, it then took them an hour to meet him at the bookstore down the road. The place closed at eleven because it was a small shop, owned and operated by a cooky atheist who didn’t have any employees to worry about wanting the night off on the holiday. And as the only gift-shop still open for miles, it looked like it paid off for the guy in last-minute Christmas gift shoppers. So there were a few people around when Derek and Stiles finally walked in the door.

“What took you so long?” Scott asked as Stiles tracked him down. Derek moved off on his own to stay near the front windows and browse while Stiles and Scott lurked at the back.

“We were busy,” said Stiles. “And we kinda had to worry about being followed because they've been at it all day and do you know how freaking annoying that is-“

“Whatever. Look. I need you to tell me why you had to talk to-“

“It’s not important,” said Stiles quickly. “We’re just gonna make Duke handle it.”

“Handle. _What_ ,” said Scott. Stiles stared at him.

“I can’t tell you, Scott. You should just go home and make sure they don’t drag your mom into this because of me, okay? I-”

“The Argents think you’re here to knock off Derek’s last beta,” Scott said, interrupting. Stiles winced.

“Okay, well, they’re not entirely wrong but they really, really are,” he said. “Derek didn’t even know it counted. He says Gerard’s not… online, or something, so Derek didn’t even know the bite took at all.”

“Yes he did,” said Scott. “I told you guys I saw him-”

“You said he was sick, but Derek didn’t know he had him,” said Stiles, shaking his head. “He knew about me, and Isaac, and Jackson, but he didn’t know about Gerard…”

“ _You?_ ” Scott blurted that out a little louder than he meant and they both winced.

“It’s a long story, but, basically, I was the team’s little human mascot when I was helping Derek and Isaac look for Erica and Boyd,” he said. He poked Scott in the shoulder. “And you don’t get to be mad at me for it because you bailed on me first and I had to do _something_ with my summer.”

“Oh my god-“

“Anyway!” Stiles waved his hands to clear the topic off the table. “They’re still wrong. Derek’s not gonna kill pack. That’s why he wanted to talk to Gerard. He wanted to know why he couldn’t tell what was going on…”

“You’re lying,” said Scott, quiet. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“No, it’s called a half-truth,” said Stiles. “The part I’m _not_ telling you about is that he would have let the old bastard pick a fight if he really, really wanted to, and Derek would have just won that and we’d be free and clear…”

Scott glared at him. Stiles shrugged it off.

“If you were stuck with Duke as an alpha, you’d be putting real thought into the gray area between black and white, too,” he said. “I know this because – let’s see – _you_ danced right into that gray area helping Gerard in the first place. So don’t give me crap-”

“I didn’t-”

“I just wanna stay home, Scott! If we can just stay home, keep Derek here on your territory, then everything will go back to before. And all we gotta do is get around this thing with Gerard and we can stay, because Derek doesn’t want to go back,” Stiles said. “It’s just a pack thing. He’s got people to back him up and he doesn’t get his ass kicked for being on somebody else’s turf. So if we make Duke happy, we can keep Derek here… no more problem.”

Scott didn't trust that it would be that easy. He frowned, thinking back to what the twins had said about wanting to be trusted in his pack. Scott didn’t want to consider even having a “pack,” he just wanted his friends, people he could trust. The twins didn’t trust him any more than he trusted them, yet they wanted in because it was safer and it wouldn’t bother them to live there. On _his_ turf. Scott knew now he had felt it when Stiles and Derek left that tight circle of friends, - _fine_ , left _the pack_ – and he had been antsy about it for almost a month because he was useless the whole time. He couldn’t do anything to stop them from going, he couldn’t do anything to help them, and he couldn’t get them back.

But now they were back on his turf. And he could do something to get them back.

“I’ll trust him not to kill another human being, even if he does deserve it, if you two will trust me to help you guys stay,” said Scott. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’m tired of being told to go away when I want to help.”

Stiles’ eyes bugged, hope on his face. Derek showed up at the end cap one aisle down, silently stepped up beside Stiles.

“Just get me in to talk to him,” he said. Scott looked over at him and nodded.

“I can do that.”

 

***

 

Because of the concerns about Derek, Chris was actually keeping visiting hours with his dad on Christmas Eve. It was a slight hitch but more like a delay. They waited until Chris Argent’s car left the lot. Then Scott let himself in through a second story fire escape since the nurses would recognize him and not question him being around still too loudly; it was a holiday, right? Then it was just a matter of getting down to the first floor to let them in. Derek’s lip curled at the stench of the place as soon as he opened the door. Scott nodded sympathetically. It smelled like old people and it smelled like death because the mountain ash poisoning Gerard Argent wouldn’t heal enough to go away but it wouldn’t kill him, either. Stiles trailed behind them, looking probably a little too much like he was trying not to be noticed, but the nurses station was empty so there was nobody to notice as they snuck past into Gerard’s room.

“This is what you consider to be staying out of the problem, Scott?” asked Gerard as he looked over at Derek and Stiles following him into the room. Scott shrugged.

“This is what I consider peace talks,” said Scott. “Call me Switzerland.”

Stiles let out a laugh but didn’t argue.

“I’m not interested in peace talks,” said Gerard.

“Didn’t figure you would be,” said Derek. He shrugged and angled into the room a little further, looking around freely at the sparse accommodations. His disinterest in Gerard was met with a matching disregard from the old man, who just sat down in a small chair by an end table to more easily watch his guests’ movements.

“Holidays or not, you’re not welcome here,” he said. “I want you to leave. Before I have someone paged to remove you. I _know_ it’s after hours…”

Derek stopped looking around and turned to look at Gerard instead of the cold apartment.

“I came to offer to help,” he said. Gerard’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s a lie if ever I heard one.”

"You're sick. You like being sick?" Derek asked.

"The realistic answer is _no_ , considering all the trouble you went through to get rid of cancer," added Stiles. "But you can lie to the human lie detector if you feel like it."

"He's not human," said Gerard with a nod toward Derek.

Stiles continued to be unamused by the old man's taunts. "By that logic neither are you. So why do we bother?"

"That's a very good question, Mr. Stilinski."

"Because you're pack, which makes you my responsibility," said Derek. He cast a look over at Stiles that was clearly a hint to cool it but Stiles just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Scott edged closer to Stiles, taking his cue from Derek that maybe Stiles was the more unpredictable of the two he had just let around an enemy. Derek didn’t say anything to Stiles about it though and kept his attention on Gerard.

"Whether either one of us like it or not. It might have been your grand plan, but it's my fault. So if I can do something about it, if I can fix this for you, then I will," he said. Gerard laughed at him.

"You can cure this... Mess? When entire teams of doctors and specialists are baffled."

"You just love the attention, admit it," said Stiles, rolling his eyes.

"Yes I can,” said Derek, talking over Stiles. “It'll hurt, but it _will_ fix the problem. You can either stay as you are, half-dead and poisoned. Or you can walk out of here, on your own, cured."

There was a sort of staring match after that, a long quiet dragging on so long that Stiles started to fidget.

"That is appealing. How do you propose to do this?" Gerard asked finally.

"You're in stasis. You're a wolf but you're not. So you can either sit here and rot on this poison feedback loop you're on, or we wake up the wolf and you let the wolf side do the work this time," said Stiles.

"How?"

"Trigger healing," said Derek.

"By causing _damage_?"

Stiles shrugged. "No pain, no gain, old man."

"You've been tucked up in here since you were bit. Drugged and poisoned and protected. You’re fighting it and haven't let instinct kick in." Derek shrugged his shoulders. "Waking that up would get past the ash."

"Which still leaves the question of _how_."

Derek gave the man a bland smile. "Nope. You'll have to trust me on that one."

"I don't trust you."

"And I don't trust you. So if you can't take my word for it that I'm in it for pack, there's nothing to be said here. You can rot and no harm to me at all. You either meet me half way on this or not at all."

The offer was met by more silence and Scott could tell it was making Stiles nervous, which only made him nervous, and he was sure it didn’t help Derek make his point to a cranky old man who only wanted them all to die in painful ways.

"He's not going to hurt you," said Scott. "But I like his way of handling things better than yours. Nobody dies."

Gerard looked from Derek to Scott and back. "And if I refuse?"

"If you refuse you're a drama queen with Munchausen syndrome because the cure is staring you right in the face and you'd rather suffer for the attention," said Stiles. "In which case, we're out of here for good and you're stuck like a defenseless little bird when the real wolves show up to finish you off. Because you better believe they know exactly where you are now."

Derek nodded his agreement with Stiles’ tactic. "So you can either trust me to help you. Or you can trust that somebody else will kill you when I leave. Which is it?"

For a long time Gerard just sat there and glared back at Derek. Nobody was actually expecting it when he said, "Fine."

"Fine, what?" asked Derek, an old man's pride meeting up against Derek’s apparent indifference. And Scott had to admit, Derek could be intimidating when he wanted to be. "Fine you want my help, or fine you want all the people you've ever pissed off beating a trail to your door when you're too weak to defend yourself."

Gerard set his jaw, anger radiating. He said, " _Fine_ , meaning I would agree to accepting your help."

Derek glanced from Gerard to Stiles and then Scott. "Any complaints?"

Scott shook his head, quick to agree. "Nope, we're good."

Derek shrugged in his jacket, letting the last opportunity for protest pass by. Then he started toward Gerard. Scott stayed where he was in case of problems, too aware of Stiles’ anxiousness and the danger they were all in, ready to pounce if needed. But it wasn't.

Easing up to Gerard's shoulder, Derek set a hand there, a mockery of something reassuring, and then he was suddenly not even bothering to try for a peaceful meeting. He unbalanced Gerard's chair and let the man fall to the floor. While he tried to recover from the attack, Derek knelt beside him and jabbed a syringe in his neck.

Scott stared, genuinely surprised, as Derek pinned Gerard down, a clawed hand crushing his neck and bared teeth showing under glowing blue eyes in a clear threat. The old man on the floor was bug-eyed and gasped for breath. He didn't fight back, didn't shift, just gurgled on black goo. Then the black turned white and frothy, bubbled and slid like sand in water. At the same time, Gerard's eyes glowed the faintest blue, hardly visible even in the dim room. It got stronger, barely, and Derek let go, quick to stand and step back. It was like Gerard went through a sudden seizure after the blue faded out.

"Help," Derek said, looking to Scott briefly. Then he was hauling Gerard, with Scott's help, to the old man's bed. Once there, he was still, aside from whatever the spasms were. It was almost like he was paralyzed.

"What did you do?" Scott hissed at Derek. Stiles hung back to watch the door and stayed out of it. Derek kept Gerard propped up on a shoulder, watching him and listening.

"Jennifer told us how to fix him," he said finally. "The poison is also a cure. So we played with a few to counteract the ash."

"Are you kidding! How- where- Wha-"

"Stiles is pretty handy with lock picks," said Derek.

"And Deaton's security system is majorly flawed, man," added Stiles, shameless. "He keeps real drugs there with high street value. He should know better."

"Stiles!" Scott was whispering with all the force he could yell. "You just killed somebody!"

"No," said Derek. "He's still alive. He just has to figure out how bad he wants to stay that way. Either he lets the wolf online or he fights off the mix on his own."

"What'd you give him?"

"Mistletoe to overpower the ash and sulfur in white vinegar to scrub it out," said Derek. "And when this works, we've got another one to make sure it stays out. It's two parts but he has to recover from the one first."

It sounded like Derek meant it, so Scott didn't argue. It took forever for Gerard to stop with the spasms. The gray liquid-ash still slowly oozed out but Derek let him on his back, the worst apparently over.

"Now what?" Scott asked.

"Now we let him settle down. We leave. Either he'll be fine in the morning and can check himself out, or he'll already have checked out by the time anybody does their rounds in the morning," said Derek. He patted Gerard roughly on the cheek and the old man's eyes narrowed in a glare. "See? He'll be fine now."

When Derek turned to leave, Scott hesitated. He didn't want to just leave an old man unattended while he supposedly fought out of poison. But they had to leave before someone noticed them. In the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, the nursing home had a security guard and two nurses for the whole floor, but it would still be tricky. Reluctantly, Scott caught up to Stiles and Derek at the door.

"How did you think this one up?" he asked, equal parts complaining. Stiles shrugged at him, peeking his head out the door to be sure they were clear.

"Science," was all he said. Then he dodged out of the room, expecting he'd be followed.

 

***


	10. Chapter 10

For the first time in his life, Scott slept in on Christmas morning. That might have had something to do with the fact that he hadn't actually slept until close to 3am, too keyed up from their adventure to the assisted living home. It took a lot of convincing to make him believe that he hadn't helped kill Gerard. He had never seen Stiles so actually willing for someone to be dead. It was one thing to joke around, or to suggest the option when they knew nobody else would sign on for murder. It was another entirely to be disappointed by a successful alternative that left the old man breathing. Stiles' only offered defense to it was that nobody would miss the old man and Gerard was personally responsible for way too much of the hell that was his life, an answer which disturbed Scott even more. He refused to go home and Stiles dug the sleeping bag out of the closet like when they were kids. Scott got the floor and tried not to think about the fact that Derek got the bed with Stiles. It was weird. But they all got over it.

The exhaustion was catching and Scott was surprised to find that he woke up before the other two. He climbed silently to his feet and started for the door, trying not to disturb them. Something stopped him and he glanced over at Stiles. His friend had a tendency to spread out and take over everything when he slept, it didn't matter how uncomfortable or strange it was because Stiles could sleep through it anyway. He had done the same as usual, sprawled across his bed, but this time he was sprawled half on Derek. Stiles' arm was thrown over Derek's ribs and his head was on his chest and the rest of him just kind of looked like he had gone still mid-flail.

Derek didn't seem bothered by it, had his face toward Stiles and one arm draped over Stiles' shoulder. It messed up Stiles' sleep shirt and Scott saw the faded red and black marks on his friend's arm. Stiles had told him about the burn on the phone, and they had figured out it was probably what Scott had heard when Chris called Kenny that first day. Stiles said he was passed out and wouldn't remember, but the time of day was right.

But he hadn't mentioned the tattoo under the battle scar he was so proud of. Tattoos weren't Stiles' thing. He hated Scott's, even if he did understand it. It was an open wound, a reminder that even the good things left a mark. Stiles had one of his own now, one he didn't sign up for and was stuck with. Somebody else's name. His reaction to being called Hale seemed to make sense suddenly. Lydia was right. Stiles would never live down the rumors when there was a reminder tattooed right there on his shoulder. His own open wound that he wouldn't talk about.

They really were used to sleeping in a wolf den with regular invasions. Scott somehow left the room without waking them. Downstairs, he lurked in the kitchen because the sheriff was there, trying to scrounge together breakfast. There was really nothing in the house because he had spent so many meals on the road at work or at Scott's house.

"Eggs and toast works, right?" the sheriff asked. "Somehow the eggs haven't hatched yet so I think we're safe with that."

"Well, you and Stiles are probably the only ones who'd notice if they aren't," said Scott, offering up a small grin. The sheriff paused, surprised, and had to think that over.

"On second thought, I'm pretty sure there's a Denny's or something open..."

Scott grinned and nodded.

 

***

 

The notion of breakfast out was enough to get Stiles going. Scott watched him shove clothes from his own closet at Derek, he was that impatient to leave. Derek looked from Stiles to Scott and back. "Fine, but we're stopping at my place after. I'm not checking on Gerard smelling like you," he said.

"Dude. We have cohabitated for a month. You smell like me. And vice versa. Get over it," replied Stiles. He flailed his way into a clean shirt, utterly unconcerned by wolfish hang ups. "Seriously, there are like three grand slams with my name on them right this second. I wanna go."

Derek rolled his eyes and Scott happened to catch his attention. He shrugged, smirked at him. "He's not wrong. You're kinda doomed on the smelling like him thing."

"I'm pungent," said Stiles. He reached toward Derek and tugged at his shirt in a clear threat to help him out of it. At which point Scott recognized his dismissal and hightailed it from the room before he could be scarred for life.

It was a whole stupid five minutes before they showed up downstairs and Scott did plenty of glaring at Stiles for it. Stiles just smiled back at him like he had something to gloat about. Which, okay, fine, he did, because for the first time in human history Stiles Stilinski wasn't single and frustrated. Well, at least not that kind of frustrated. Unlike Scott, who was feeling suddenly like he'd gone decades without getting any, all because his best friend was a jerk.

"It's freakin' Christmas," Scott complained at him. "Do you have to rub it in?"

"Duh. Yeah? Remember my birthday party? The one I had to invite Allison to so she could see you without her dad throwing a bitch-fit? And you guys then kinda ditched?" There was no real heat to the reminder, just a smug irritation.

"Okay! I get it! Protest noted," said Scott.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Man, I owe you _months_ -"

"I'll tell Derek," said Scott. Stiles weighed out the threat and then sighed.

"Fine. We're square. But don't freakin' forget it," he warned. Scott nodded his promise and they finally left the house to follow the others. Stiles, Derek and Peter took the Toyota while Scott went with the sheriff to fetch Scott's mom and Isaac. It was going to be one bizarre Christmas.

 

***

 

The only really weird part turned out to be having Peter and Derek there. The man was on his best behavior, but it was still Peter, in public, pretending to babysit Derek.

"So does this mean you're signing up with the alphas then?" Isaac asked Peter finally. Like it was burning a hole in his tongue or something. He just _had_ to ask that, _had_ to try to start shit on Christmas...

"Not an alpha," said Peter. His lip curled slightly in a hint and Isaac backed down.

"So? Derek isn't," said Stiles. "The whole schtick is that once an alpha, always an alpha. You can't unlearn that instinct. Even when there’s no pack, there’s an alpha."

"Ah, but my dear not-a-nephew, you're forgetting my instinct did a _hard reboot_ coming back from _dead_. So my situation would not be as appealing to certain people I won't mention," said Peter.

Stiles swallowed his food, guilty, and focused on his plate instead. Scott also found other places to look, not wanting Peter to dive into great detail on the miracle of his undeath in front of the sheriff or his mom. The sheriff noticed the suspicious silence and took a deep, frustrated breath.

"I'm fairly certain there's a story to be told here,” said Stiles’ dad. Stiles instantly started shaking his head in a very tight-lipped _not-gonna-talk-under-torture_ fashion that Scott just backed up by looking as innocent as possible. The sheriff carried on. “And I am positive that story is just going to raise my blood pressure and spoil my appetite, so you know what? I'm just going to order an extra serving of bacon and we'll call it even."

Peter choked on his coffee and Derek smirked over at him. "Fair trade," he said, smug.

"Ohmygod," muttered Stiles. Scott smirked at his menu and tried not to be too obvious about hiding behind it.

Despite the fact that Nobody Likes Peter, Christmas breakfast was manageable. Stiles got at least two out of three of his Grand Slams, Scott got a burger for breakfast, and nobody had to clean up after. Peter didn’t creep on Scott’s mom, the sheriff didn’t get glare at him for anything, and Stiles and Derek didn’t act like anything other than themselves. It was a success.

Until it wasn’t. At one of many random chimes announcing a new patron to the establishment, Stiles looked over at the door so fast Scott was worried about whiplash. He followed the ferret-glare and saw what set Stiles off.

"Ohshit." Scott thought it but Stiles said it out loud.

"Language in public, Stiles," said Deucalion as the alpha approached the table. It was weird to see him move without the cane, without the glasses. He could see and be seen and Scott was instantly on guard for it. The man was scary-good when he was blind, so he could only get worse when he could see. No wonder Derek came back so screwed up. Deucalion pulled a chair over from another table and sat down on it backwards, angled between Stiles and Derek. The two he could control if a problem showed up, so they were little better than shields. And he was there to see them, anyway. Derek glanced over at him but was putting most of his energy into the mask he hid behind when he was out of his depth.

"You're in a good mood," he said. Deucalion nodded, looking back at him. Both wore their sunglasses hanging from their shirt collars so early in the day, and in profile, looking at each other, the resemblances stood out. Derek was darker, skin tone and hair color both, but they had the same jawline and cheekbones under the same judgy eyebrows. The flat of their stupid noses even looked the same. Scott stared openly; Deaton had been right. It was such a huge _family_ problem, and Stiles was entrenched in it.

"It would seem Gerard has made the most miraculous recovery. Over night. Christmas miracle of miracles." Deucalion sounded amused.

"Score one for Santa," said Stiles, not overly enthusiastic in his sarcasm.

"Santa or Scott McCall?" asked Deucalion.

"How about Hale pack?" said Stiles, annoyed. "Scott had nothing to do with it."

Deucalion gave an obliging nod. "One is more acceptable than the other."

Melissa leaned on the table despite the sheriff's very careful hold around her waist to keep her in her chair.

"Listen, you... You're two for two on my boys now and if you think I'm not keeping track, you're wrong. And maybe the sheriff has his hands tied but let me promise you, I don't. Trust me. _I don’t._ So whatever you're here for, you can finish it up and leave. And the boys stay here," said Melissa. The obvious effort at threatening him fell a little flat when he just stared at her, completely unimpressed.

"I would be overjoyed to leave Stiles here when we go home, Mrs. McCall. It will depend on him, and on Derek," said Deucalion. He looked to Derek as he spoke then. "So far... They are surprising at every turn. Agree to one thing, _do_ another."

"If you think we're making it easy on you, you're a little past gone," Derek replied. "But you're still getting what you want."

"Am I?"

"Yes," snapped Stiles.

"So stay back. When I get stuck, I'll call," added Derek. "You're _back-up._ "

"Hmm."

"There's nothing to _hmm_ at," said Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles was apparently of the opinion that nobody at the table was allowed to talk around Deucalion but had reality telling him otherwise which resulted in a coughing fit. The sheriff carried on.

"You want something from the boys then let them handle it. If I know anything about the two of them, it's that they're smart enough to get it done when they want to," he said. "They don't need you. And if they do, they'll ask."

"Yes, apparently they will ask Scott," said Deucalion. "Which is problematic when Scott's main concern, like yours, is Stiles and not Derek." He looked to Derek then. "You can't trust your instincts when you key off of false-positives. You know this. Don't fall for it again."

The cryptic warning raised Scott's hackles and he glared at the alpha. "What do you know about anything?"

"I know I want to see Derek succeed. I know he has a potential that rivals your own and he needs guidance for that. Not petulant teenaged meddlers who would drag him down," said Deucalion. He hadn't raised his voice but he didn't have to in order to be intimidating. " _You_ are a problem for him, Scott. Don't make me get involved in it."

Scott didn't back down from the staring contest. Stiles' anxiety notched up. So did Derek's.

"So we're supposed to leave?" Derek said. Deucalion shifted focus from Scott to Derek, a smile on his face.

"Wonderful idea."

"Yeah, but breakfast," said Stiles. He was protective of food.

"I've eaten," said Derek. Scott frowned at him for the half plate of food left in front of him. Derek shoved his chair back as Deucalion stood.

"Fine," complained Stiles. "Give me a minute."

"No," said Derek. As Deucalion moved to the doors to leave, Derek crouched beside Stiles' chair to look at him and talk quiet. "Stay with your dad. Peter and I can check on Gerard. I'll see you at your dad's in an hour. Alright?"

Stiles shook his head. "Nope."

Derek stood up, stole a kiss on the way. "Too bad."

Stiles looked like he wanted to be angry but worried was all he managed. He turned in his chair as Derek and Peter followed Deucalion out. They stood at the Toyota, talking, Derek frustrated, before Deucalion went to his own car. Derek glanced inside at the table before he drove off with Peter. Scott looked guiltily over at Stiles. His friend saw him and just shook his head, stared at his food like he had suddenly lost his appetite. He kicked the table support, just to vent frustration.

"Goddamnit!" he muttered. Then he hunkered over his plate to try to eat. Scott looked to the sheriff, worried and not sure what to do. Sheriff Stilinski took a deep breath and shoved his chair back.

"I'll go take care of the check," was all he said.

 

***


	11. Chapter 11

When they left the restaurant, Stiles had his dad drop him off on the way by their house to Scott's. Scott caught him at the door before he could get out of the cruiser.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"We told you. There's two parts. I gotta go get the stuff and start putting it together," said Stiles.

"By yourself?"

Stiles flashed him a glare. "I've been by myself for a month, Scott. I can handle it."

"Nope," said Scott. He started to jump out of the car. 

"No. You heard him. You can't help," said Stiles. "Just stay here and make sure your Mom's okay."

"Isaac can do that," said Scott. Stiles started to argue and Scott cut him off. "You agreed, if I helped you in to see Gerard, you'd let me help Derek stay. If all that means I can do is make sure someone's got your back then I'm gonna do it. Deucalion can just get over it."

"Fine," said Stiles. He slammed the door closed rather than stand there expecting Scott to climb back inside, because he wasn't. "Just don't blame me if we get somebody killed."

"They haven't yet," said Scott. He frowned at Stiles. "The guy isn't going to hurt anybody, Stiles. He's just scaring you."

"Are you kidding! What do you think I've watched him do for a month?"

"Just guessing, but you've watched him beat up on Derek."

"Him and the others. And remember what happened last time-"

"Jennifer's not here this time," argued Scott. "And he knows Derek can heal. He's here for one thing, he just told us-"

"He's a psycho. He lies."

"Not about this. He's just here for Derek. He's not gonna screw anything up for Derek."

Stiles stopped. It seemed to click then. The panicked frustration on Stiles' face turned into just plain anger and Scott nodded encouragingly.

"He's messing with you because you're going to push Derek into listening to him," said Scott, quiet. "It's the same thing he did before. He did it to me with my mom."

Stiles looked past Scott to where their parents sat in the idling cruiser, watching them, listening.

"They'll be fine, okay, man? Let's just go get whatever it is Derek needs for this thing, just let me help," Scott said. Stiles nodded, still too mad to make words happen, and he got in the jeep. Scott looked over at his mom and the sheriff.

"Be careful," his mom said, quiet. The sheriff nodded his agreement. 

"And tell him not to worry. We'll stay at the station," he said. He nodded back toward Isaac in the backseat. "All of us. So if you need us, if he or Derek need real back up on this shit, someone call us."

"Got it," said Scott. Then he jogged around the car to jump in the passenger seat of the jeep and get the day going.

 

***

 

"This is it?"

"That's it."

Scott stared at the mix and frowned. "And it'll work?"

It didn't seem like much. Simple ingredients. Half of them had been stolen from Deaton and Scott still hadn't figured out if he was more ethically obligated to tattle to his boss or to refuse to tattle on his best friend. Morally, stealing was bad, and stealing with intent to potentially harm someone was bad. But when the theft and the harm were alternatives to cause death or permanent removal from life as they knew it, the lines got a little blurry.

"It's supposed to work," said Stiles. He pulled a face and shook up the test-tube sized vial, inspecting the purple liquid inside. "But I mean, we got it from the Bestiary. And that thing says you cure werewolves by saying their Christian name three times. So we could still be screwed."

"But the other thing worked. Deucalion said Gerard's cured," said Scott.

"Right. That's the gamble. We got one that paid off. Maybe we can get another."

"What if it doesn't?"

"Uh. Remember the part about we're screwed?" Stiles replied. He was very intentionally not looking at Scott. "We either roll over and go back to being the pack bitches of AI, or we kill Gerard, tell Duke to shove it, and stay home and pray we didn't just start a war with every hunter in the Argent line."

"Yeah, this sounds awesome, man." Scott didn't like the alternative. But he didn't exactly trust that a tiny bottle of a mix they stirred up in the science lab usually better known as a veterinary office was going to do anything other than look pretty.

"Right?" Stiles agreed, strangely quiet. He pocketed the vial and finally looked at Scott. The avoidance thing was getting annoying already and Scott didn't know how long he'd tolerate it.

"But it's what we've got. So we go with it. We try it," said Stiles. "And if it doesn't work... We let Derek do his thing. I'm not gonna say anything. I've already screwed up enough just existing near him the past month. So I'm not gonna tell him what to do."

There was a resignation in his friend's voice that only frustrated Scott. "You didn't screw it up."

Stiles shook his head, determined to disagree. "I did exactly what Duke dragged me up there to do. I knew what he was doing and I still fell for it. I mean, maybe I helped. Derek said I did. But maybe I just made everything worse, too. So I'm not gonna play anymore, like you said."

"He's not gonna go after my mom, I promise," said Scott. "Or your dad. Or even Isaac. There's no way."

"How do you know?"

"Well, he would have by now, for one thing. For another, Derek gave my mom a car. He's gotta know the guy won't forgive him if he goes after her, or anybody important to you."

"Man, the guy supervised Derek getting his ass kicked on like a daily basis. Derek's not gonna forgive him anything," said Stiles. He looked at Scott like he had lost his mind. That's when Scott caught on.

"He didn't tell you?" he asked, stunned.

"Who tell me what?" asked Stiles.

"Deucalion... Crap, does Derek even know?"

"Know what?"

Scott stared at Stiles, mentally stuck. What if Deaton was wrong? But if he was right... Everything would be better off if Deaton was right and if the bestiary's magic purple elixir fixed Gerard like Stiles said it would. But how could Derek not know?

"Crap. I don't know, man," said Scott. "I just figured you knew."

Stiles squinted at him, expression pinched. "Knew what?"

"Nevermind. We'll sort it out later," Scott told him. "We gotta get this to Derek. Get it all over with faster."

Stiles didn't move at first, arms crossed as he waited for a real answer. But no way in heck was Scott dropping any bombshell news alerts on Stiles. 

And it wasn't their place to say anything to Derek because what did Scott know? He knew rumors, he knew pack suspicion. Scott also had a poster tacked to the wall of his room with Stiles and Derek's faces on it and somebody's scrawled efforts at turning Stiles into a pirate and Derek into a parrot. Rumors meant nothing. They were too easy to start. Stiles was his best friend and had given Scott permission to do his worst years earlier. But Derek wasn't, and Scott was not Hale pack. He drew the line at meddling in Derek's family rumor mill. If he didn't already know about Deucalion then Scott couldn't tell him, because it might not be true. And if he couldn't tell Derek then he couldn't tell Stiles. 

Scott held open the door in a hint. "Let's go."

"I'm getting the very distinct impression that you're lying, Scott. You know how I know what that impression feels like?" Stiles asked and Scott knew it was rhetorical. "I know because you suck at lying."

"Not. I can when I want to," said Scott. He followed Stiles out and down the short hallway to the back entrance of Deaton's office. Stiles was frustrated as he stalked out, arms flailing in frustration just a little.

"Oh my god. I can't even hate you right now because we don't have freaking time," Stiles complained. Scott took a relieved sigh and tried not to grin.

 

***

 

Scott kept Stiles distracted talking about what he had missed while he was gone. He listened as he drove, even smiled a few times and lost some of the anger in his expression. Then, suddenly, like a light switched on, Stiles went back to worrying. 

"Hey, call Derek for me."

"Why?"

"I wanna make sure he's at the house. Or if we gotta meet him or something."

Scott frowned and made the phone call anyway. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. Stiles didn't like that report, refused to accept it, so Scott tried calling Derek from Stiles' phone. The change in caller ID didn't change the story at all.

"He's not answering," said Scott. He caught Stiles' concern then. There were very few things that would keep Derek from answering after the morning so far. Stiles kept quiet, rolled with it and bit at his lip. His face said he was thinking, his scent said he was terrified and hiding it.

The old jeep suddenly swerved and Stiles keened sideways in his seat even as he tried to get control of the vehicle again. 

"Jeezus fuck!" The harsh oath was as surprising as the near-miss of an on-coming SUV and Scott shoved Stiles over to help him with the wheel. They got the jeep to the side of the road and Stiles jumped out, skittering to the treeline like he was going to be sick. They were near the preserve, out of the city and headed back toward the sheriff's house. There was nothing out there, sparse traffic and no one stopped to check on them. Scott kept a wary eye out anyway and went over to check on Stiles. 

"Dude, what happened?" He asked, worried. His friend really had been sick and he looked like he wasn't far from doing it again. Stiles shook his head, trying to focus on breathing.

"I dunno, man. Just suddenly hurt. Like, bad. Like, I think I busted my ribs or something. I don't know what I did..."

"You didn't! You were just driving!" Scott stared in open shock. Stiles nodded. Then, a long minute later, the pain seemed to have stopped. Color returned to his face and Stiles could move again without shouting.

"What the hell, Stiles..." Scott's confusion was mirrored on his friend's face and neither one of them had answers. Stiles only shook his head, braced against a tree as he tried to recover from whatever had happened.

"I don't-" Stiles froze mid-word and straightened up, not relaxed but not not so obviously in pain. "Shit. I know what this is."

Stiles ran for the jeep.

"Come on, need help," he said.

"What?"

"Get in the car!" Stiles shouted as he got behind the wheel again. "It's Derek,okay? Just trust me, we gotta help him."

"At your dad's?"

"He's not there anymore."

Scott jumped in the jeep. "So where are we going then?"

Stiles was distracted by driving so it took awhile for him to answer. He glanced over at Scott and he saw his friend looked pale, like he hurt. "I don't know. I'm just... Winging it."

 

***


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...remember the note at the top about this being an AU...
> 
> \--------

The jeep pulled to a stop behind other cars. Familiar cars. The Argents' cars. Outside the old Hale house. Scott stared, mouth hanging open in surprise and confusion.

"What the hell..."

"Stay here and call Deucalion," said Stiles. He shoved his phone at Scott and jumped to get out of the car.

"Stiles! Wait-"

His friend did wait but it was only to stop in the door and stare back at him. "I mean it, Scott! Get the alphas here, now!"

"Fine but I'm going with you-"

"I'm not a wolf. It's hunters! Get the alphas. We need help!" Stiles' words were emphasized by a hiss of pain and Stiles caught at the door to hide a cringe across his shoulders. Scott grabbed the phone and started skimming for Deucalion's number - because Stiles had everyone's goddamn numbers - even as he got out of the car.

"I'm going with you so shut up," said Scott. Stiles didn't argue again but he wouldn't let Scott help him. He could walk fine, he just moved like he hurt like hell and there was no explanation for why. Scott gave the phone to Stiles when Deucalion answered.

"Stiles," the alpha said calmly.

"We need help. Get here. Now."

"On our way." And that was all Deucalion said. Scott stared, angry as Stiles just hung up and headed toward the old Hale house.

"You didn't tell him where-"

"I don't have to," said Stiles. He swatted at his arm, the only explanation he'd give. Scott remembered hearing about the trackers, he'd just never believed they worked. Stiles apparently did. He stomped up the steps and Scott followed.

"Chris!" Stiles yelled as they hit the door, the formality of respect they had been raised with apparently gone. Signs of the police investigation still remained, broken yellow tape tied to random things, spray painted markers and piles of debris that had been picked through and stomped across. Scott caught Stiles' shirt sleeve and steered toward where he could sense activity. He smelled people, he heard people, and he brought them to the entrance to the basement. The two of them had never gone down there, not even with Derek around. He avoided it so they did. The hunters apparently didn't have that respect. Scott pulled Stiles to a stop just short of the door to the basement as it opened and Chris Argent stood in front of them. He had a gun in his hand but it wasn't aimed at them yet.

"You need to leave," he told them. "Now."

"No. Let me see Derek," said Stiles.

"He's not here."

"That's a lie," said Scott, with Stiles echoing him hardly a heartbeat behind.

"I know he's here, and I know your dad is being a bastard, so lemme see Derek and I'll get your dad the second half of that medicine," said Stiles. "Unless he wants to die when he kills the wolf because he only got half the-"

Whatever else Stiles was going to say was silenced by some kind of pain hitting his gut and sending him doubling over. Scott reached to help him up and Stiles shrugged him off. He glared at Chris, anger pushing him past whatever in the hell was causing him pain. Scott kept back just because he had never seen that look on his friend's face before. It caught Chris' attention too and he arched his eyebrow at a kid giving him attitude.

"He's gonna die. Keep hurting Derek and I'll freakin' let him," said Stiles. That more or less settled things for Scott and he stopped worrying about helping Stiles and started trying to do what he had promised. He was there to back whatever move Stiles said they had to make. And he wasn't about to argue with that call.

"They didn't come back to hurt him," said Scott. "I told you that. They told you that. They helped him and Gerard still attacked first."

"I could have told you he would," said Chris. "Why do you think I told you three to leave it alone."

Stiles shook his head. "We can fix it or the old man can die, what do you want?"

After weighing it out, Chris nodded and stepped aside to wave them down into the basement. It was a sure bet that it was a trap, Scott wasn't stupid; there were two ways out of the basement and the hunters would have them covered to their best advantage. But Stiles didn't seem to be thinking much about caution and he shoved past Chris to go after Derek. Scott followed, because there was no sense waiting around for the alpha pack.

When they got to the bottom of the cement stairs, debris-strewn and dusty just like the upper floors, everything was lit up by a single camp lantern. Everything was black outside the circle of too-bright fluorescent light. Inside of it was Derek, curled on the ground in obvious pain with his wrists in heavy cuffs, the rest of him covered in black soot and dirt. Gerard Argent stood near him, looking much healthier than the last time they had seen him. Stiles stalked to the middle of the room and looked like he was going to handle it okay, but when he got in the glare of the camp lantern, he seemed to change course. He would have charged Gerard but Scott caught his arm and pulled him back for his own good.

"We were trying to help!" Stiles' voice echoed in the dank room and Scott was surprised to find it worked as a kind of radar for his hearing; the echoes were softer off walls where hunters stood in front of them in the shadows. The Argents had four hunters with them. Scott hoped the alphas - if they showed up - had more.

"You came here to kill a beta," said Gerard, his volume rising with every word. "He's not an alpha without that power. He can't even fight."

"Let's see how you fight when somebody tazers you in the freakin' kidney," Stiles returned.

"Stiles! You can't!" Derek had used Stiles' distraction to get to his feet but he still kept himself between them. He didn't look too badly beat up now that he wasn't on the ground getting kicked. Just covered in dirt and black ash and gross smelling water. Scott made the mental note not to go down when he got his ass kicked because the smell would only make the hunters' jobs easier.

Stiles seemed to listen to Derek's caution and he stopped tugging at Scott to let him go. Derek risked looking away from Gerard to look back at Stiles and Scott.

"Did you get the second dose?" he asked.

Stiles glowered at Gerard. "Yeah. But I don't know why we're bothering-"

"Because he is the last thing I want on my conscience," Derek replied. He looked back to Gerard. "If you want the mountain ash to stay gone, you need the second half. I told you that last night. If you don't scrub it out, it'll build up stronger than you can fight."

Gerard stared at Derek in what looked like genuine surprise.

Scott waved a hand at Derek. "He wants to help. You dragged him here to beat him up and he wants to help you anyway. You gonna believe him yet?"

"Of course not."

"Yeah, because you dragged him down here to kill him. Because that's what you do here," said Stiles, still angry.

Derek talked over him. "We told you last night what would happen. And we were right, so you don't let us help and we'll still be right all over again. You die without it."

"Or I kill the sire. Cure myself with no need to trust you," said Gerard. Derek shook his head even as Stiles surged forward.

Scott looked from Gerard back to Chris. "Come on. They've been trying to help from the start."

"Gerard!" Chris said, tone forceful. "If there's an alternative that doesn't start up another war, we try it first."

"You already agreed to our help," added Derek. "If I wanted to kill you, you would have been dead last night. Not half cured."

Stiles wrestled free of Scott and held up the elixir they had made up. "I put hours of my own life into this project, okay?" he said. "It'd be so much easier just to let him take you out the old fashioned werewolf way."

And so, somehow, Gerard agreed to it. "But I will administer it myself."

They had kind of stolen a steri-pak wrapped syringe from Deaton's and Scott held it up as Stiles held onto the purple-tinted vial.

"Fine," said Stiles. "I don't care what you do with it. But you don't get this until you let him loose." He nodded toward Derek. "There's other ways for your stupid cure. Killing him is off the table."

Chris agreed to it, even if Gerard didn't. Derek kept angled between the old man and Stiles as he walked to meet Chris and the cuff keys. It was handled as a trade and Stiles gave the vial to Derek rather than either of the Argents. Derek took them both to Gerard, leaving Stiles to Scott as he moved to stare down the old man. Gerard was his usual level of grateful and snatched them from Derek with a snarl. Stiles mimicked it but Derek just watched over.

Whatever Stiles had put in this mix, it didn't kick in as immediately as the one the night before. When the dose was empty, Gerard crushed the needle and waited, impatient.

"What's it doing?" he asked. "Why can't I feel it this time?"

"Oh, you'll feel it. Give it a minute," said Derek. Chris must have heard something in the promise because he arched an eyebrow at Stiles.

"What was in it?"

Stiles shrugged like it was nothing of much importance, but his lips quirked up in a grin. "A little of everything. We got it from your bestiary. Nice little cocktail shot straight to the bloodstream."

"What's in it?" Chris repeated, not at all set at ease. That's when Gerard finally felt the effects of the elixir and doubled over in sudden pain. Derek dropped back to close ranks with Scott and Stiles as the hunters in the room moved out of their corners beyond the circle of bright light they stood in with Chris and Gerard.

"Hale!" Gerard shouted at him.

Derek looked on at Gerard, a strange sort of fascination on his face.

"Wormwood, thyme, sulfur, aconite, and a silver tincture," he said. He finally looked over at Chris. "Just enough to cure the bite. Kill the wolf without killing him."

The roar Gerard let out then sounded like he was close to dying. Scott recognized it as the man's usual dramatics. But he had to wonder how much it hurt. He had gotten used to how he felt since the bite. There was a buzz of something in his veins that he hadn't ever noticed before. Scott had always assumed it was his own extra awareness of life in general, something just in his head now that he could sprout claws and teeth and hear or see things so much more clearly. But watching Gerard claw ineffectively at his own skin, first with wolf claws and then without, Scott realized it wasn't just in his head. There really was something he could feel that was different, because whatever it was, it was slowly burning out of Gerard.

The old man hit the dirt in the center of the circle near the camp lantern, rolled and twisted in ash and dank water. They gave him his space and stayed watchful of the hunters, but none of them broke the circle of light. There was nothing anyone could do to help him. No one tried.

Minutes passed before anyone moved and then it was Chris as Gerard finally went quiet. He was still alive, breathing ragged from pain, and he moved like a flailing kitten. When Chris tried to help him sit up, the grasp he had on his son's hand was weak.

Scott looked over at Derek and saw him smiling.

"Did it work?" he asked. Derek shrugged but he looked relieved. Dirty, but relieved somewhere under it.

"Ask him," he said. Derek looked at Chris then and the hunter nodded.

"How are you doing?" Chris asked his father. The old man glared at him, still struggling to sit up. "Do you remember your name?"

"Don't be stupid," said his father.

"Gerard Argent. That's your name. Do you know where you are?"

And the interrogatory continued. Where is he. What happened to him. Can he move. And the name question came up twice more before Gerard got so pissed off that he fought his way to his feet. Chris backed their science play with a rendition of old lore, said the werewolf's Christian name three times as the poison worked through.

From Gerard's bad mood, it seemed to work. And Derek hadn't been chopped in half to do it. Gerard wasn't a werewolf anymore. He wasn't poisoned by ash. And who knew if the cancer was cured. But the bigger question there was: who cared? He wasn't a wolf. Deucalion couldn't use him against Derek now, and Isaac wasn't Derek's pack so there was no way to trigger any alpha shift from him. Scott knew Isaac was there now and he wasn't giving him back. The alphas would have to be done with Derek.

"No more ash, no more wolf. Pack problem solved," said Derek. He backed toward Stiles to herd him and Scott toward the door. "Enjoy your life old man. Stay the hell out of mine."

"I owe you nothing," said Gerard. The retort was weak, the old man still looking as likely to fall down as anything.

Scott and the others moved through the dark to the stairs. Stiles shoved into a hunter who tried to block their path and a scuffle broke out. Rather than wolf-out over it, Derek caught the handgun from their attacker and turned it back on him. He was faster and stronger and it took no effort at all. It was mirrored by Stiles' theft of the man's electrified baton. The hunter didn't push the issue and they got to the stairs just fine after that.

Deucalion waited for them there, another surprise for Stiles up at the front of their group.

"Clever boys," Deucalion observed. He stepped aside to clear their path to the stairs. "We should discuss this development outside."

"Nothing to discuss," said Stiles. "You got what you wanted. No more beta. He killed a wolf. Small bonus detail that he didn't start another war to do it."

"Outside," Deucalion said, practically growling. Derek prodded at Stiles' side and he reluctantly went up the stairs. Scott hung back, not sure what to do. Deucalion didn't want him helping Derek. He didn't want to make it worse.

"Join the party, Scott," Deucalion invited. His eyes glowed red and he looked around at the hunters in the dark basement. "You take the tunnels out or you'll find a bloody reception in the foyer."

"Scott..." said Chris, concerned. Scott looked over at him, then back at Deucalion as he thought it out. He had told Stiles to trust the man earlier. Maybe he needed to take a chance on his own advice. He looked back to Allison's dad.

"It'll be fine. Just take the tunnels," he said. "Don't start any trouble because we've got plenty to go around."

The answer seemed to amuse Deucalion. Scott took that as a good sign and climbed up the stairs to see what exactly that trouble would be.

 

***


	13. Chapter 13

Deucalion's alphas locked the deadbolt and blocked the basement entry with the remains of an old couch for good measure. Then he and Scott met the others in what had once been a living room.

"It seems as though you didn't need much help after all, Stiles," Deucalion said.

"Hunters had Derek. They were beating on him. I panicked," Stiles said. "Since Peter apparently couldn't do that one stupid thing you gave him to do, I didn't know what I would find."

"We found Peter shot and bleeding at your place," said Deucalion. "Tessa's seeing to him."

Stiles looked mildly guilty for the assumption. "Oh."

"Thanks for _that_. But yes, we handled the rest of it," said Derek. "All of it. You wanted a dead wolf. You got one."

Deucalion's eyes flashed anger. "Don't be dense, Derek. That was not the point in this exercise and you are well aware of that."

"Funny enough, I am. So I failed your test. I'm not Alpha material. You can move on with your day in the same state of perpetual disappointment as everyone else," said Derek.

"You are an alpha! It is your birthright!" Deucalion shouted more than spoke and Scott backed toward Stiles as an extra barrier between his friend and an enraged alpha werewolf.

For all Stiles was the only human among alpha werewolves, he didn't look overly concerned. And that was, Scott realized, because his friend was stupid. There was no other explanation for Stiles' sudden rush on an alpha. A full tackle that would have made Coach Finstock proud. Except for the part where he tackled an _alpha werewolf_.

Scott and Derek both moved to break it up, as did one of the alpha pack. They stopped when they heard the power-up of the baton and saw Stiles had backed off on his own to threaten Deucalion with it.

"Stiles! Don't!"

Stiles still glared at the alpha on the unfriendly end of the baton. "Why the hell not."

It was scarily obvious that Stiles wasn't going to listen. He was angry. He probably still hurt from whatever had happened before. And he was most definitely pissed off. Scott looked to Deucalion. "You need to tell them..."

The alpha looked at him, surprised. The anger he aimed at Stiles shifted and went up a notch. "Tell them what? Rumors?"

Scott glared back at him. "The truth."

Tired of the games, Deucalion swatted the baton out of Stiles' hand while he was distracted. He shoved Stiles toward Derek to get him out of his space. "The truth is that it died with Talia. And as her son, it falls on Derek to avenge it. _That_ is what is right."

Not sure what the hell was happening, Scott hung back and let his friends do what needed done. He was their back-up and he didn't want to make it any worse than he already had. In contrast to Scott and Stiles, Derek seemed calm. He caught Stiles' wrist and made him stay back rather than pursue a fight that everyone knew he would lose. It frustrated Stiles but he twisted to catch Derek's hand in his and stayed at his shoulder. They both calmed and Stiles' aggressive stance changed.

"Revenge is not what she wanted," said Derek. "It isn't what she would have done for her pack. She would have started over with the pieces she had. Taken care of her pack, not use them toward some agenda. She wouldn't have wiped everyone out in pursuit of power. So stop saying you know her, or what she would have done."

Deucalion's anger twisted and faded, sarcasm tugging a small smile to his face. "And you would stand there and tell me I have done nothing for you."

The surprising declaration met silence.

"You haven't," said Derek finally. "There is no possible way you have done anything for me."

"Think, Derek. Just a moment. The disappointment you claim to be sat in my office a month ago and let a boy make decisions for you," said Deucalion. "Now you make decisions for yourself, for him. Consistently. And the calls you make? Reflect the pack you should have."

For the longest time, Derek just stared at Deucalion. It was the middle of the day, cloudy but the sun was out, so the ramshackle Hale house cast spots of shadow and light around them. Scott kept an eye on the other alphas in the room, made sure Stiles was safe with Derek. Nobody pushed them.

Then Derek pushed. He stepped away from Stiles and Scott and toward Deucalion, moving before anyone knew what to expect. He slugged Deucalion hard across the jaw and the alphas moved to break it up. Scott tried to corral Stiles away from it but his friend dodged around him and took on one of them. Braeden.

With Derek and Stiles both tangled up in their own fights suddenly, Scott was stuck. Fight to keep the alphas off his friends or join the alpha pack's efforts to break it up. The worst option was to switch sides so he went after the first alpha who went near Stiles.

The alphas got the hint as Scott used claws and fangs to press them back, and they realized there was little harm that a beta and a human could do to alphas. They left Scott alone after that and stayed out if the way. Scott guarded the perimeter as Stiles blocked blows from werewolf claws with the retrieved hunter weapon and snuck in attacks of his own. He managed to break up the fight with Derek and Deucalion by sending Braeden into the other alpha. Derek and Deucalion backed off each other just to watch.  Stiles was bigger and Braeden was stronger, but he could move fast and the extra height helped. So did the moves he had learned at the dojo. He couldn't get an easy advantage in the attack, but Stiles held his own and defended himself.

He ended up covered in dirt just as bad as Derek, but Stiles caught her by surprise and managed to send Braeden to the floor. He crouched at her shoulder and held the stolen hunter's baton to her neck in a warning.

"You promised," he hissed at her. The woman stared up at him, her anger slowly faded. Her features returned to normal. She nodded.

"I did," she said. She held up a hand and Stiles stood, tugging her to her feet. Then she turned and left the room. Deucalion's hunter, the guy Kenny who tricked the Argents, went with her. So did one of the alphas. That left two more, plus Deucalion. Stiles backed off to Scott's corner again, moving like he was bruised and winded but still focused and angry. Scott herded him between himself and Derek and watched the alphas.

Derek pointed around the room at the other alphas. "I want them out too. Now," he said.

"Tough shit," said a burly asshole alpha. Stiles jumped like he wanted to go after him but Derek stayed in his way, caught him with an arm across his front to catch his waist and keep him behind. Derek's features twisted into the angry wolf to match the alpha's in a clear acceptance of the challenge.

"Fisher! Out!" Deucalion's order was met by surprise. He looked to the other alphas. "Go. Now. If the Argents come back for their vehicles, take it out on them."

That seemed to appease them and the three alphas reluctantly trailed out of the room. Derek and Deucalion went back to their stare-down. Stiles looked between Deucalion and Scott, his friend perhaps more accusing than Scott thought necessary.

"What do you know?" Stiles asked him. Yep, definitely more accusing.

"Rumors," said Scott. He nodded toward Deucalion. "He's the only one who knows the truth."

"So what's the damn rumor, Scott!"

Derek tracked away from Scott to deal with Deucalion again. "Is this about my mother?" he asked, talking over Stiles. When Stiles looked to Scott, he nodded as a confirmation and Stiles' attention shot to Deucalion.

"Are you kidding me right now!" Stiles just barely managed not to yell. Deucalion stayed neutral, his attention on Derek.

"I told you from the start it was about your mother," said Deucalion. "You are capable of the legacy she deserves. You just don't seem inclined to live up to it."

"That's not the only thing," said Scott. He was tired of the games. He still looked at Deucalion, challenging the man to fess up to it. "Deaton told me. It was a rumor in the packs. He said he didn't know for certain."

"What was it?" asked Derek.

"Not important if you don't already know," interrupted Deucalion. "If you were meant to know then your mother would have told you."

Stiles hit his limit with the half-truths. "Ohmygod. Is this seriously what the last month of hell has been about? You suddenly wanted to play _daddy knows best_ now that he's all grown up?"

It looked like Deucalion was cornered and he shook his head just slightly, a glare at Stiles barely hid. "No. The rumor is there. I was close to Talia. We were partners in many things," he said. He looked to Derek. "Are the rumors true? Am I your father? That is something only your mother would know. She never told me. _Never_ once asked for help."

"Deaton would know," said Stiles, quieter, still angry. "If he told Scott, it's not just a rumor."

"Then so be it," said Deucalion. "My objective has always been-"

"Stop lying!" Derek said, frustrated. "You knew. You've known. It was why you came back before. Laura brought me back to Beacon Hills. You found us through the rumors. And you haven't left it alone."

"I told you, you have the instinct to develop," said Deucalion, confirmation enough for everyone else still in the room.

"It was a stupid game to you," said Derek, annoyed. "You dragged Stiles into it!"

" _No_ , he dragged himself," Deucalion said. "He's old enough to decide. He had opportunities to leave and turned them away every time. If the boy declared himself your family, I saw no reason to argue."

"Yeah, since you won't," said Derek. "He's right. This has all been because of me, not because of my mother, and you won't even admit to it now."

"I think I have."

"Kidnapping people to Canada is not admitting anything," said Stiles. "It's just pissing them off is what it is."

Deucalion smiled. "Think of it more as a character building exercise."

Derek looked wounded. He looked hurt and surprised and let-down. It was somehow worse than anything Scott was afraid of causing if he had just told Derek what Deaton had said in the first place.

And then Derek's expression hardened, became impassive. He moved slightly, just raised a hand from his side a little. There was a _crack!_ The sound of a handgun firing off in close quarters. Scott startled and stuck his hands to his ears. He saw Stiles do the same but Derek didn't. He seemed to have expected the sound and Scott realized then that Derek had fired the shot.

It hit Deucalion hard enough that the alpha went down. Right there in the foyer of Derek's old house, not far from the spray painted circle around the bloodstain from a month earlier when Derek had disappeared. Close range as it was, it went straight through the alpha's thigh. He shoved himself up on his elbows to stare at them, surprised. He didn't bleed long, started to heal very quickly. Derek cleared the weapon and ejected the magazine, tossing them elsewhere in the room and out of everyone's reach.

"We're done here," said Derek. "I'm staying in Beacon Hills. And _you're_ getting the hell out."

Turning away, Derek caught Stiles over the shoulder, tucking up behind him in a way that he was either protecting Stiles or hiding behind him, Scott couldn't tell which. He hung back as they left, watching Deucalion as the alpha very carefully stood and tested the slowly healing gunshot wound.

"This is my territory," he said. "I inherited it _from the Hales_. And we don't want you here."

Deucalion nodded. "Yes, I have noticed that."

"Then respect it. Leave. Otherwise... We'll get the law involved. And you won't be able to leave for a very long time."

Scott wasn't going to turn his back on Deucalion and he waited, waved the alpha out ahead of himself into the daylight. Out on the porch, they saw Derek and Stiles by the jeep, the alphas near their own cars. Each group gave each other space and wary glances. Stiles was in Derek's space and anxious, his anger no longer taking the frontline. Deucalion acknowledged them by watching as he passed them. Stiles stared back, while Derek found somewhere else to look. Scott headed for the jeep and climbed in the back seat. They left without another word said.

 

***


	14. Chapter 14

They gave the all-clear call and met up with the sheriff and Scott's mom at the Stilinskis' house. Isaac apparently was handy with a text message because the second Stiles stepped out of the jeep he was attacked by a Lydia. Who was immediately disgusted by the dirt he had rolled in when fighting. Scott's mom checked on Scott and he deflected, sent her toward Stiles and Derek. With Lydia fussing over Stiles about why was he dirty, _where had he been, why was he gone so long, what gave him the right..._ , Melissa went to Derek first. She declared him unfit for public because he smelled like grime and mold and rusted water pipes, and she wouldn't even look at Stiles after that for the same reason.

Scott volunteered to clean off the jeep seats before the basement smell set in to the already abused interior. Everyone else volunteered to go find dinner. Melissa told Stiles and Derek to hit the showers. She seemed slightly mortified when they didn't _take turns_ and Scott distracted her outside for half an hour. Even if the cloudy December sky had opened up in rain, they were not going back in that house until they were fetched.

But for some reason Scott figured what his mom worried about wasn't actually on their agenda. Derek was more than a little non-communicative since they had left the alphas and Stiles was more than a little worried and very bruised. It didn't seem to have improved much when they got back outside. Stiles let the nurse check him over now that he was clean and, aside from the proof of the fights he had picked with _werewolves_ , he was fine. Scott sat by and prompted his mom into lecturing about fighting, especially things bigger and meaner. He generally made a nuisance of himself as much as he thought he could get away with while still trying to provoke Stiles into a mode other than "quiet." Then his mom went inside to do what she could to make the small Stilinski house make room for nine people for the next few hours. Stiles was feeling claustrophobic so they stayed outside on the porch steps.

"What about the stuff in the car?" Scott asked, worried. "Before we found Derek."

Derek looked over at him, then at Stiles in accusation. "What happened?"

Stiles scrunched his nose. "Remember how you knew I picked that fight with Duke a couple weeks ago?"

"Oh shit," said Derek, like he already knew the answer. Stiles nodded.

"Yeah. So it works both ways. Only I'm not a wolf. So you get trashed by a wolf and it _hurts like hell_ ," he said. "Low pain tolerance on this end. I kind of threw up."

Derek looked horrified. Stiles bumped shoulders with him. "We'll figure it out."

"What the hell?" Scott blurted.

"I dunno!" Stiles said, waving his hands to toss it off. He tried to explain but it didn't make any sense so he shrugged and decided to drop it. "It was this thing that happened. We thought it was just the both of us going a little mental. At the same time. But apparently not."

Some kind of meaningful look passed between them.

"What?" Scott asked. Stiles stared at Derek, Derek stared back.

"We're not telling him," said Derek. "Or anyone."

"Telling us what?" pressed Scott. Stiles turned and grinned at him, clapped him on the shoulder.

"Maybe next year, buddy."

Scott scowled, confused. The interrogation was deflected by the sheriff's car pulling up, their friends piling out with an impromptu Christmas dinner scattered among bags between them.

"What the hell you guys," said Stiles. "It's Christmas. Go home... do Christmas stuff."

"We are," said Allison, handing him a tray of food so she didn't have to carry it and a paper bag. "Sort of."

"Seriously Allison? I can't see this going over well..." Scott began. He was awkward and frustrated and waved vaguely off in the direction of her house. "We locked your dad into dragging your grandfather through the tunnels like two hours ago. Pretty sure adding this to the mix is gonna make him mad."

"First off, I don't care if it makes him mad. He pissed me off getting involved when he promised he wouldn't and made me promise not to," she said. "Second, my grandfather can just suck an egg. From what Isaac told us, they should have just killed him and done the world a favor."

Scott's jaw dropped. Stiles glared at Isaac for ratting on them. Allison sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay... I don't mean that, exactly. The point is, if they're going to make me pick sides, my father already knows whose side I'm on. So me having dinner with you won't surprise him. Not after today."

"Nope. Don't even look at me, Stiles. Someone obviously has to keep track of you or you're going to do something stupid," added Lydia. She and her armful of grocery bags shoved at Stiles' shoulder to make him move off his front porch and into his house. He frowned, looking slightly scrambled, but went inside with Isaac and the girls. Derek hung back, awkward and not sure what to do. Scott stood with him, the both of them waiting to be sure everything had been gotten out of the sheriff's cruiser. They could at least be helpful even if they didn't know what was going on. The sheriff shut the back gate of the truck and approached carrying a bag and a pastry box.

"Is that everything?" Derek asked. The sheriff nodded and, as he got close enough, handed the box over to him.

"And this is yours," he said. "The day's been pretty shitty, the month's been hell, but sometimes cake can help. Didn't know what you liked so I went with what Stiles wasn't gonna complain about."

Scott arched an eyebrow and peered through the plastic at a chocolate frosting covered round cake with " _Happy Birthday!_ " scrawled across the top. Derek frowned at it. Scott blinked.

"It's your birthday, dude?" Scott asked. The sheriff arched an eyebrow at the question.

"It is according to the stuff I dug up this month," he said. He looked to Derek expectantly. Derek nodded, somehow still looking confused. Scott glanced at the sheriff.

"Uh... It's been a really crappy day..." he said, trying to buy Derek a little recovery time. The sheriff nodded his understanding of that but still looked to Derek, concerned.

"But it's over, right?" Sheriff Stilinski asked. "All clear's been sounded, bad guys kicked out of town, good guys all home and accounted for..."

Derek seemed to snap out of his surprise then and nodded. "Yeah, it's settled. We're home."

"Good then," said the sheriff. He clapped a hand to Derek's shoulder, his usual level of uncertain what to do colliding with his certainty that he wanted out of the cold and into the house. "We've got food for a last-minute Christmas to get in front of the masses, here."

Derek took the hint and held the front door open for the sheriff and Scott grinned at him as he followed them inside.

 

***

 

There was a sort of mass-sleep-over at the Stilinski place that night. It wasn't planned, but it got to be 3am before anyone realized and Lydia fell asleep on Stiles' shoulder on the couch. They both kind of piled on Derek when Stiles crashed around the same time. Derek was still awake and looked bewildered by the both of them. So Scott and Allison fetched blankets and they all camped out in the living room.

They slept in again. Scott's mom woke them with plates of pancakes and it was the most ridiculous, awesome morning Scott had in years. He and Stiles kicked Isaac's ass at the games and then Allison got involved and they lost _hard_. Hunters were apparently digital bad assess too. That discovery sucked but only because she sharked them.

They stayed in that day, Stiles watching the windows a lot, paranoid about people going out front. But Lydia and Allison left without trouble, arrived safely at home, and he relaxed a little. He only reluctantly let Scott's mom go to work. Derek was hardly let out of his sight. He was just barely civil when it was decided that everyone should stay at their own houses that night. But he survived the exodus. Scott stayed late just to be sure, and Stiles fell asleep with the laptop so he figured it was safe to leave then. As Scott was heading for the hallway he looked over at the window to see Derek sneaking in through it. So much for everyone getting their space. Scott didn't do much more than grin and let himself out of the house through the front door, like a normal person.

 

***

 

Two days after Christmas things were still quiet. More than that, Scott was bored. It was nice. He wasn't worried about Stiles or the sheriff or Derek. He wasn't trying to focus on schoolwork that couldn't break through the fog of stress. Instead he was at Derek's, because he was bored and that's where Stiles was. His dad told Stiles he had to get out of the house and do stuff while the sheriff was at work, normal stuff, of the preferably non-supernatural variety. So Stiles went to hang out at a werewolf's apartment. Naturally.

"I'm pretty sure this isn't what your dad meant," said Scott as he let himself into the loft. Reclined in his usual sprawl against Derek, Stiles hardly looked up at him from the couch, too busy with his laptop. Derek did but the guy was back to his usual surly, unreadable self, so Scott couldn't figure out if he was interrupting anything or not.

"I'm pretty sure I could come up with a lot of other things to be doing right now that don't involve a third-wheel," replied Stiles. "So stop with the judgey-face or I will totally start something up."

Scott rolled his eyes. "You have definitely been hanging out with Derek too much."

"Yep," said Stiles and Derek both. Stiles smiled broadly and looked back over his shoulder at Derek. Scott rolled his eyes rather than watch the pair play tonsil hockey.

"Still, I mean it, you guys. How is this any different than the way you spent the last month?" he asked.

"Uh. Not in _Canada_ , for starters," said Stiles.

"It's my apartment for another, so my key works," said Derek.

"So does mine still." Stiles nodded. "Kinda figured Peter would change the locks while we were gone but he didn't. So that's awesome."

"No alphas..." Derek continued on with the list.

"Well, present company excepted," added Stiles. "And that's because present company isn't an asshole who picks fights for territory."

"Noted," said Scott. He dropped into a chair across from the couch. "I still have alphas in my territory though."

"What? Who?" Stiles sat up like Scott had kicked him.

"Uh. Ethan and Aiden are still around. They heard about the fight on Christmas and asked Danny to pass along that they weren't involved," said Scott. He pulled out his phone to check the text message Danny had sent on it, just to double check he was reporting it right.

"Bull," said Derek. He shook his head. "Don't trust them, Scott. Aiden still reports in to Deucalion, even if Ethan's trying to break off."

"How d'you know that?" Scott asked, surprised even though he knew he shouldn't be.

"Because they set us up?" Stiles said. Derek nodded.

"I heard a couple phone calls in Duke's office. It was Aiden," he said. "Trying to get back on his good side."

"And where one goes, the other follows," said Stiles. "Don't do it, man."

Scott frowned. "But if they need a pack... I mean, you guys told me you don't have to like your pack to be a part of it. If it makes the rest of us safer..."

"They'll live without it," said Stiles. "I am seriously strongly advising you to kick their asses to the curb. Maybe we figured out Duke's game now but that doesn't mean it's over. Spies are spies."

Scott nodded, thinking it over. He hesitated before deciding it was better to know than not. "What about you guys?"

Stiles shook his head. "We're out. Not playing."

"At least I am," said Derek. He looked at Scott, direct and open for once. It wasn't personal. "I've had a pack my whole life. And lately they've done more harm than good. So I'd rather try it on my own."

"I'm... Just not on board with letting anybody shove me around," said Stiles. "I got my dad. That's the only guy I wanna answer to for awhile. You're my bro. That's good enough for me."

Trying to wrap his head around it, Scott nodded. "I guess it makes sense," he said. "It's for the best. I have to figure this alpha thing out. That's gotta be part of it, right? I can't always wait around for you to figure it out."

Stiles pulled a face and looked over at Scott like he had grown a second head. "Dude. I'm not going anywhere. I'm still your go-to wolfitude barometer. I just... Don't wanna let anybody in my head. If I wanna tell you go to hell, I reserve the right to do it without challenging you for status and fighting over it. That's all."

Derek nodded. "I'm not going anywhere. This is home. If you need me then you've got the number. Same as before."

"Well, before crazy-batshit-Hale-family drama before," clarified Stiles. "Not _before-wolfitude_ before. That ship has sailed."

Derek looked between Stiles and Scott, eyebrow raised. "Well. Not technically."

It was kind of funny watching Stiles twist himself up to look back at Derek. The guy was a pillow and Stiles wasn't used to looking at things he sprawled on. It distracted Scott a little from the question Derek had just asked-without asking.

"Not technically?" said Stiles. "It's very technical. Alpha werewolf over there. He's got a pack. We can't just rewind that."

"Nope," allowed Derek. "But we can kill the wolf. If Gerard can survive it, it would be a cakewalk for Scott. He's stronger."

"First off, I don't think you know what a cakewalk even is," said Stiles, scoffing. "Second, nope. Not happening."

"Funny, I don't recall asking you about it," said Derek. They were both perfectly calm and still in each others' space, despite the casually dismissive banter. Derek had an arm across the back of the couch behind Stiles and he waved toward Scott. "I was asking him."

"Well I didn't ask you to ask him so don't do it," said Stiles. "One-way ticket here. No state-changing. It was dangerous enough the first time."

Derek rolled his eyes and put Stiles on ignore. Scott stared at them, jaw slack. Stiles settled down again and noticed.

"What?" he asked. "I don't have to kiss his ass to kiss him. He's pissing me off."

"Doesn't look like it," said Scott, grinning. Stiles flipped him off and then went back to his laptop. Apparently the topic he had deemed a crisis was now off the table. According to Stiles, anyway. Derek still watched Scott like he was waiting for an answer. Scott shrugged.

"I hadn't really thought about it," he said. Stiles started to swear about it not being dropped and Derek calmly slid a hand over his mouth to shut him up. Scott noticed and took it as an encouragement. He shrugged.

"I think I'm used to it now. I like... Me. I mean, I don't know anything at all. I'm faking it. But... So's Stiles. I was faking it before. You guys were gone and I couldn't help and I hated that," said Scott. "Really, really _hated_ it. And if I got rid of what I can do now? If I went back? It'd be like that. All the time."

"Tolf yew," said Stiles, his words muffled by Derek's hand. He elbowed Derek in the ribs. It got him draped in a headlock instead of muzzled and Stiles settled down again, apparently fine with the development.

"So there's agreement then. All around. No changing states. No wolf-killing. No alpha bite for me," said Stiles. "We're good figuring out what we've got. And Pandora's freakin' casket can stay closed on that shit we gave Gerard. Nobody wants it."

Scott nodded into the quiet. "I like where I'm at."

"Good."

Scott waited before grinning. "Think I'd like it better at some place that serves dinner. This place never has food."

Stiles tilted his head back to look up at Derek from his slouch against his hip. "That is a valid point."

"You said no changing states," argued Derek. "If you're currently hungry, you have to stay that way."

"Semantics..."

Derek shook his head and shrugged. "Nope. Science."

Stiles rolled his eyes and folded up the laptop. "Oh my god we're leaving _now_."

 

***


	15. Chapter 15

After so long away from routine, Stiles was actually glad to go back to school after New Years. He had spent most days since Christmas driving his dad to work just to be sure he got there, and it was a sort of familiar pattern to start to get himself back on track.

So in blatant retaliation, Stiles got dropped off by a sheriff's cruiser at school his first day back. Just to be sure he got there. It was his dad's revenge, he figured, and besides, Stiles figured it never hurt to make an entrance. And he certainly managed to make one. Scott had beat them to the school and was waiting when Stiles jumped out.

"He picking you up, too?" Scott asked dryly. "It's like first grade all over again."

"First grade had juice boxes and bribery. I got gypped this round," said Stiles. He glanced around the front lawn and saw people staring. "What did you guys tell people, exactly?"

" _Literally_ everything we could think up except the truth," said Scott. "Do you know how gullible frosh are? It was great..."

Stiles stared at his friend, expression blank. "Well I'm glad you had fun while I was gone."

"Oh, yeah. It was like the best fun I've had since the _last_ time I pissed off hunters," replied Scott. He shrugged. "At least you know half the ones about you being dead are going to go away on their own."

" _Half_. Dude. I'm a ghost now?" Stiles gave the news some consideration as they headed inside. He motioned toward the door to make Scott open it for him; Ghosts don't open doors for themselves. "The ghost thing could be fun. I can work with this."

" _See_ , we knew you'd be back," said Scott.

The hallway quieted when people started recognizing the kid from the posters - the real ones, not the pirate-scrawled posters - walking next to Scott-the-storyteller. Stiles wasn't sure what to do with the attention; the last time he had that many eyes on him at once, in a narrow space like the hallway, he was picking a fight with an alpha and losing really badly. It was daunting and he must have hesitated or made noise or something because Scott caught his shoulder and kept him walking. The crowd stayed out of the way and more or less cleared the path to Stiles' locker.

"What the hell-" Stiles broke off as he took in the mess that was his locker door. It was plastered in... Stuff. There were stickers and magnets and- "Why the hell are there condoms on my locker?"

"Do not question, just accept the free stuff," suggested Scott. Stiles rolled his eyes and started removing the packets of condoms that had been packing-tape-sealed to the door.

"They've probably all been stabbed with pins," he complained quietly. But free stuff was free stuff. Stiles pocketed twenty condoms, three magnets from the various military recruiter offices in town, and the bumper stickers they had kept pinned in place. They were for Area 51 and Marvin the Martian and they were totally going on the jeep, because yes. He held them up at Scott.

"I was abducted by aliens?"

"Yeah. From the park. But also maybe from the Richardson farm harvest festival. There were like five witnesses at both so we couldn't really narrow it down."

"Awesome!" Stiles shoved the alien tokens in his backpack. "I am totally working Sim-like werewolf babies out of that deal."

"Only if someone really did poke holes in all the free condoms," said Scott, grinning.

Another bumper sticker was from Alcatraz. People had spent actual money and effort defacing his locker over their winter break. This was actually awesome. Stiles let himself entertain the thought that he was actually missed by complete strangers who didn't normally give him the time of day. He kind of changed his mind when he looked up a little higher and saw a bachelorette tiara as the source of the shiny plastic strings dangling down over the mess. Stiles jumped to take the tiara down and promptly fit the pink-and-silver atrocity on Scott's head.

"Don't ever say I never gave you anything," Stiles said, turning back to finally attempt _opening_ his locker. More condom packets had been shoved through the slots over the course of the last nearly two months and jumped out at him as soon as he swung the door open.

"Seriously?" Stiles hoped he wasn't blushing as he shoved books in the locker and ignored the free stuff this time. Considering they were annoyingly well-behaved after living in a werewolf den, the amount of _free stuff_ was setting a seemingly impossible goal before Stiles' eighteenth birthday. Scott was trying not to laugh as he shoved the dropped packets into Stiles' open backpack.

"This didn't fit in the vents," came Lydia's voice. Stiles looked past Scott to see Lydia holding a bandana at him. His eyebrows twisted up in confusion as he reached over to take it. Lydia pantomimed putting the cloth on her head.

"You're a pirate now," she reminded him. Comprehension dawned and Stiles started fixing his new pirate hat. That totally made up for being the only virgin in the hall with a free-condom collection.

"All hail the Flying Spaghetti Monster," he said. He caught Scott smirking at him and added, "Shut up. I said hail, not Hale."

 

***

 

The theory was always easier than the practice. Two weeks since the worst Christmas Derek had lived through in years and he was finally starting to feel a little normal. For awhile he couldn't eat, wasn't hungry, couldn't even taste what he did scrounge up. Leaving the apartment to go anywhere other than Stiles’ place left him disoriented until he finally got to where he had set out for. It all kind of blurred on him, like it had up at Deucalion's. Like he was missing some detail, not tracking something he knew should be right in front of his face.

Stiles was the constant, always texting, always inviting him over or himself over to Derek's, always checking he was okay. Everything else was in and out. But it was getting better. Food was actually a good idea. Fresh air and leaving the apartment to go somewhere other than Stiles' place wasn't actually going to damn anyone to a short life of pain. Nobody was going to die. Derek had a home again and he liked it more than he was afraid of it.

The uptick on Derek's positive outlook on life collided more harshly than he expected with Stiles going back to school. After nearly two months of shared space, they were each back to their own territory. Derek stayed over more often than he slept in his own bed, but they still tried to ease up on the forced codependency angle. Stiles had a counselor to help him get back on his feet and the lady apparently quoted the movie _Speed_ at him when she suggested they not rush into things. And Stiles was seventeen and Derek was old enough to know better so he didn't argue.

It was a good idea. Even if he was now _certain_ it wouldn't work. Stiles was back at school for one day, not even eight hours, before Derek started getting antsy about the lack of random text messages. The guy was in class, he couldn't text. But Derek had gotten used to the incoming texts. The day dragged on without them. The counselor's idea was probably feeding the addiction more than preventing one. Derek was presented with two options: first, he could find a job and a productive way to contribute to society while keeping himself busy, or second, he could volunteer to play taxi every day until he got used to the school-enforced quiet. Derek used to like the quiet. He still did. He just preferred that quiet have Stiles in it with him. So the Toyota could be a taxi.

Derek parked in a space a student’s car evacuated and, perched against the front fender, he texted Stiles to tell him where to find his ride home.

"This is so awesome," Stiles greeted a few minutes later. He had some kind of bandana on his head under his backwards ballcap and...was that an eyepatch folded up over the side of the brim? His smile was the snarky, dangerous one, so Derek waited for the punch line. "I've got my own stalker for once. Do you know how much I love this?"

Derek refused to smile back. "I could let you walk home if you'd really rather..."

Stiles stopped in front of him, still grinning. "Yeah, but you'd still be sitting there waiting for me to show up in the meantime."

"See? Not stalking," said Derek reasonably. "Carpooling."

"I am wearing off on you," Stiles warned him. Derek shook his head.

"Not from over there you're not," he replied. Stiles' smug grin turned into a real smile and Derek mirrored it. He caught Stiles' backpack straps to reel the rest of him in without leaving his comfortable slouch against the Toyota. Stiles stepped in between his knees and had just leaned down enough to catch a kiss when Derek felt the too-familiar buzz kick in along his spine that warned trouble. He looked away as he stood up, a clear signal to Stiles that something was wrong. They both looked around the parking lot for the source of whatever had set Derek off.

"Alphas," said Derek. "And they're not hiding."

"Not Scott, I'm guessing," Stiles said.

"Not Aiden or Ethan, either," Derek confirmed for him. A few more cars trailed out of the lot, adding to the line to the street but opening up more parking spaces and clearing the vantage points a little better.

"Seriously, would it kill you two to cool it with the PDA? You can't even make it out of the parking lot," came a voice they both knew well enough. They looked across the row of cars to see Kenny winding his way toward them. Braeden was with him, taking her own path between parked cars and the qued up cars waiting to leave the parking lot. Stiles did step back then but it had nothing to do with Kenny's sense of PDA boundaries.

"You're the jerk who can't go _two weeks_ without us," Stiles said to Kenny.

Kenny shrugged it off as he came to a stop beside Braeden, well within arms reach. "Some people just have that aura, you know? Don't worry, _we_ didn't miss you."

"Then why are you here?" Derek asked. They were the last people he wanted to see. He cast his gaze around the lot, looking for the others that probably came with the pair.

"I made a promise," said Braeden. She drew his attention back, nodding toward Stiles. "I keep them."

Stiles' eyebrows shot up his forehead.

"You didn't get in trouble the last time? I mean, you walked away from the fight. I figured that was all you were going to do," he said.

"In my line of work, if I don't keep my promises to the letter, I don't get paid," Braeden said. She waved at his arm and started digging in the messenger bag over her shoulder. "That was my promise if you took me to the mats."

"We walked away because you asked _nicely_ ," said Kenny. Stiles blinked at him.

"I’m not paying anybody. We don't owe you anything for it," he said. "We're clear."

Kenny nodded. "There's nothing left to bite you on this one, kid," he said. He turned and pointed to a car a few rows back. Derek easily recognized the driver. Deucalion was supervising the meet. Derek wanted to leave.

"What's he- come on, you guys, I _just_ got back to school-" Stiles was somewhere between angry and rising panic and Derek tucked a hand to his back to keep him calm. Kenny shook his head, waved his hands to clear the air.

"He's not always an idiot, Stilinski," said Kenny. He motioned their attention back to Braeden and the small device she held. It looked like an older model iPod, clunky but not huge. At the same time, he started digging around in his pocket for his cell phone. "Duke says you know how to reach him if you ever need the pack. He doesn't need to know where you are."

The gesture seemed hollow after how badly Deucalion had screwed up their lives, but it was no less surprising. Derek watched as Kenny pulled up an app on his phone, showing what looked like a map. Braeden held the box in her hand up to Stiles' shoulder where the burn had healed over. She pressed a few buttons on a touch-screen and the box beeped. Then Kenny held his phone out to to Stiles.

“See? You're gone," he said. Stiles snatched the phone and stepped back, shoving Derek toward Braeden as he stared at the screen. Derek was torn between watching the screen in Braeden's hand as she repeated the process, or the one in Stiles' as he made sure they both went off the grid. It wasn't as sure a bet as getting the bioware strips out of their arms, but that was expensive and risky. This would do, if it was real.

"He handled it badly," Braeden said to Derek, pulling his attention back again. She finished the work with the scanner and put it away. Then she looked up at Derek. "But trust me when I tell you he handled it better than he would have just a year ago. He wouldn't have been sorry then."

Derek went guarded, tensing up even if he didn't back off. "He's sorry. Did he say that?"

Braeden and Kenny exchanged a glance. That was a clear negative.

"He doesn't say much in general," said Braeden. She shrugged. "The point is, the pack is there if you need help. Even if he brought you in wrong."

Derek accepted it and nodded, dismissive just to get it over with. He looked over at Stiles and saw confirmation there that the trackers had gone silent. Kenny took his phone back then, surprising Stiles with a smack to the back of the head before he backed off. Stiles scowled but couldn't figure out a smooth retaliation without acting like he was suddenly twelve so he crossed his arms and kept to himself. Kenny grinned, gloating as he backed off. He offered a lazy salute.

"Behave yourselves, boys," he said. Braeden nodded her agreement with the advice. She looked between them.

"Keep Scott McCall out of trouble, too," she added. "That one's worth watching."

Derek didn't say anything, just nodded reluctant agreement. Then Braeden followed after Kenny and they went back to the car. Deucalion left with little more than a nod at Derek as the car passed. Stiles stared after them, rubbing his arm self-consciously.

"Well," he said after awhile, "At least now we know you come by the awkward-asshole side naturally."

Not amused, Derek glared at him. That was the last useful thing anybody could have ever said to him and Stiles was - annoyingly enough - the only one he would tolerate that kind of logic from.

Stiles stared back at him. He was calmer now and trying to get back on even footing with reality, apparently forcing the potential problems that could have just happened back in order to get on with his life. He shrugged.

"What? You know you love me so I can say that shit. Constructive observation," he said, almost hitting his usual level of casually unconcerned. "And since it's _that_ asshole's fault that my Dad's paying good money now for my ability to observe that, twice a week with a nice doctor lady who wants to give me drugs, I'll make the observation."

At the mention of drugs, Derek arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. This was the first he had heard about more medicines being heaped on the ADHD PTSD case. Stiles rolled his eyes and idly backhanded Derek's shoulder.

"No, I'm not on any new drugs and the drugs I am not on are not the source of my observational skills. She doesn't want me on LSD."

Derek waited expectantly for answers that didn't appear magically. "You need drugs?"

Stiles shrugged it off. "No, just the usual. She just thinks I'm slightly insane because I told her my boyfriend bites things that come back to bite me in the ass."

Settling back against the fender, Derek relaxed a little and glared up at the overcast sky. "God. Why do I do this to myself?"

Smug grin back in play, Stiles raised a hand to catch his attention. "Another observational point there... _you_ started it. If you had never ever tried to give Scott his inhaler back then this could all have been avoided..."

He figured he had suffered enough for the afternoon and Derek moved to stand and leave. "Nevermind," he said, meeting the smug smile with one of his own. "You are walking home."

He didn't try to sell it hard enough because Stiles didn't buy it. Instead, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around, distracting Derek momentarily with the greeting kiss that had been interrupted earlier. His hands wandered into Derek's pockets and there was no missing the theft of his car keys. Stiles stayed in his space as he showed off the stolen property.

"Nope. Going home with you," he said. Derek considered it a fair trade.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> ***
> 
> ...no, I mean it this time...
> 
> So credit where it's due: over on tumblr, winterwolf923 wanted an explanation. theonesarcasticchick caught a thing. Strictly-chaotic wanted FEELZ. and chefjoe79 said “I NEED THIS THING LIKE AIR AND WATER.” or something to that effect. 
> 
> So I did them all a thing. It is now finished.
> 
> Bonus kudos to HilaryParker54 for her valiant efforts at betaing but this time around I was too chaotic with the posting schedule for her to keep up. All screw-ups are mine. (and if you tell me about them when you find them, I'll probably fix them pronto...)


End file.
